


Lady of the Lake

by Lady_Viola_Delesseps



Series: Tolkien-Verse Compatible Fics [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arranged Marriage, Desolation of Smaug, Diary/Journal, Dwarf/Human Relationship(s), F/M, Ignores Battle of Five Armies, Laketown, Manipulative Thranduil, Mentioned Kíli/Tauriel, Rebuilding Erebor, These two are soul mates, Thorin is mean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:14:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 47
Words: 60,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2889842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Viola_Delesseps/pseuds/Lady_Viola_Delesseps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The journal of Sigrid, daughter of Bard of Laketown, a humble girl tasked with the care of her family- nothing more, nothing less. That is until great doings in Middle Earth come through her doorway (toilet, rather), in the form of a company of dwarves, one of whom is smiling, blond, and a prince... Movieverse, Fili/Sigrid</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hello. My name is Sigrid, daughter of Bard of Laketown. I'm not really sure how to begin this, or even if it is a good idea. I don't really have time to be writing in a journal, but Da gave me this beautiful blank book for my birthday. I turned fifteen yesterday, the year TA 2939, and I am starting to realize what a great age that is, and am starting to feel very old. People say time flies, and while I don't really believe that, I must say that the years are going by faster and faster. I used to seem the other way; every day was slow, every year a huge accomplishment. Now it seems my mind can hardly keep up – there aren't enough hours in the day for all the things that need doing. I don't really feel much older. But the time running away with itself is easy to remember when I look at my younger brother and sister, and sometimes, at Da. Bain is growing tall – soon he will be as tall as I am, then someday as tall as Da. He will be eleven in the summer. Tilda is getting older too, and is becoming such a help around the house. She is nearly seven, and people say we look alike.

Anyhow, I think I will write in this book about my days and what I do with them, if I can make the time. It isn't very interesting, but great people always keep records of what they have done, and Da has told me every night before I go to sleep that we are great people, no matter how humble, and never to forget that. He started doing that when I was just a little older than Tilda, I think. That was when Mam died. I was playing outside on the boardwalk that leads from our house to Nyr's house, with pieces of straw, I think. Right, someone had taught me how to fold and tie the bits to resemble a tiny horse, and it was taking me a long time to master it.

I remember when Da told me that I was going to have another baby brother or sister. I had been too young to remember very much of when Bain was born, being only four, but this time I was so excited. I hoped it would be a sister, so that we could play together. Da sat us both down by the fire after supper, and with Mam sitting on his lap in his chair, he smiled and told us. Bain didn't seem too affected by it – I think he must have just nodded and gone back to his play or something, but I remember squealing and jumping up and down until I trod on a loose nail and ended up in tears in Mam's arms.

As time went on her belly got bigger and bigger, and each night before she would climb into bed with Da, I would talk Mam into clambering into the little bed that Bain and I shared, so that I could touch her and feel my new baby sister or brother stretch and squirm within her. Such things would make me blush to do now, but children don't care if something is uncomfortable, I suppose. Bain would join us until Mam would laugh and say she needed to go so that we could rest and so that Da wouldn't think she didn't love him any more. That always made us laugh.

I was a great help, I thought, though I don't really know how much help I was. Tilda can be very useful to me, and I was her age then, I suppose, but it's awfully different. Mam was often very tired, and when winter came, the healer, Wald, was often at our house. The cough Mam developed was so bad that it didn't even sound like it came from a human. It sounded more like the sounds some of the terrible creatures that live beyond the lake make, or so I have been told.

So I was outside, despite the chill air, plaiting hay into tiny horses. I had been sent out there when Mam's pains became worse than she could bear without crying aloud, so as not to be frightened, and to keep an eye on Bain. I don't know how long the pains lasted altogether, but it had been a rather long time – at least I heard her tell Da they were beginning the morning before.

Bain was throwing odd bits of bark and other trash into the canal and watching the ripples among the bobbing fragments of ice. We must have been out there for several hours, judging by my numbed fingers and the steadily growing members of my steed army, when I heard my name being called by Da's voice.

"Sigrid! Sigrid, Bain, come here."

I can still remember the strange tone in which he used, and the look in his eyes – it reminded me of the eyes of the rabbit we once cornered in the marketplace – dark in the middle, but light on the edges, and staring with sorrow and fear.

"Go inside, and give your mother a kiss," he managed. "You have a new baby sister." I didn't understand why he looked so devastated. Not until I went inside and saw Mam lying pale and almost motionless in their bed. Wald, the healer, handed her a tiny bundle as soon as we entered, grave, and quiet, our footsteps loud on the boards of the floor.

"Come here, Sigrid," Mam said, her voice so light I could barely hear it. There was a tiny dot of blood in the corner of her mouth, and I watched it while she talked – it frightened me. "Bain, you too. Look – a baby sister."

I peeped within the blanket and saw a tiny scrunched up face, wrinkled and red.

"What is her name?" I asked at last, still feeling frightened and not knowing why.

"Tilda." Da spoke behind me as Mam was overcome with a fit of coughing, and another stain of blood marked the pillow when she finished. "Take her," Da whispered, and nodding, I carefully picked up baby Tilda. Bain started crying, and Da gathered him into his arms. Tilda felt so light and fragile among all the blankets, and I watched as Da held Mam's hand and talked to her quietly. He told her how much he loved her, that I remember, and then she was gone. I didn't realize why she was no longer talking, but Wald stepped forward and took Tilda from me, so I hugged Bain so that he would quiet. As soon as he did, I heard a sound I have never forgotten, nor ever heard since. Da held Mam in his arms, sobbing like a child. My heart felt so cold for so long after.

Taking care of little Tilda was my job after Mam was gone. We found a woman who had also just had a baby to nurse Tilda for us. She was over at our house a great deal, and helped me with all the work to be done. Bain too, relied on me, since Da was gone often on the lake for days at at time, and sometimes even through the nights. I had friends whose father's were fisherman, and their fathers stayed home in the daytimes, but with barge work, one never knew. Da was much quieter than he had been before Mam died. Sometimes he would smile, or be cheerful, but never jolly, never joyous like he used to be. I wished that I had known how to comfort him then, but I was so young. Even now as I grow older, I am still searching to realize the depths of his pain. I have to go now, but I will write more if I can very soon. There are a few more chores that need doing before I go to sleep, but my beautiful book will still be here tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello, again. Writing about Mam's death again makes me sad, but it also helps me remember how much I am needed by my family. Tilda never knew Mam, and Bain doesn't remember her much at all. All they had was me to make sure they were fed and washed and clothed, and though I didn't (and still don't) really mind, it is sometimes so much work that I forget to tell them how much I love them, as Mam never forgot to do. I don't feel like I would make a very good mother, because of that. I get caught up in the work, and forget to just have fun with them. Though sometimes we have laughed so much together I feel like I could never bear to speak harshly to anyone again.

In a way I feel like I became a grown up when Mam died, even though I was only eight. But I did so many silly things still, like burn the soup, forget to pin the washing properly (it ended up in the canal and I had to get someone to help me fish it out and begin again) or sew a sleeve on wrong-side out. Sometimes I think it is lucky that I already like to do all those things – cooking, sewing, cleaning, teaching – but then sometimes I wonder if it matters. Whether I liked them or not to begin with, I would like them now just from doing nothing else.

One time I remember Bain simply would not take a bath. Tilda was only three or so, and Bain was really old enough to be bathing himself, but he would not get into the water. I tried reasoning with him: "You haven't had a bath in a week, it's your turn now." It tried threatening him: "Your friends won't want to play with you if you smell like a stable." I even tried bribing him. "I won't tell Da about the picture you carved on the underside of your stool if you just take your bath." He remained adamant, and so I chased him around and around the house, overturning furniture and scattering things every which-way. Tilda screamed with laughter from the bed where she watched.

Finally I caught him by the arm, and together we wrestled outside onto the boardwalk. Passersby were staring, but I thought the spectators would influence him. "Bain, son of Bard, if you don't take a bath, then I'll-" He gave a violent tug to get away from my grasp, and as I let go he pitched into the canal. Somehow, as he went down, he grabbed for my skirt and caught me off-balance, dumping me into the water with him. Rising to the surface arm in arm, we both spluttered and burst out laughing. "Does this count as a bath?" he asked me impishly, and I dunked him as a reward. But the water was cold, and Tilda was alone in the house, so we drug each other out of the lake and, still laughing, slopped into the house. It took the rest of the day to clean up our mess, but that's a fond memory that I have. Bain is a good friend to me, and he works as hard as Da each day, in the market. I don't know if I've ever told him this, but he's the best brother. Perhaps I should.

Something else that is a memory worth recording is when Tilda asked about Mam. She was about five, I guess, and that would have made me twelve. It seems so long ago to write that – when I was twelve, even though it's really not. Like I said before, sometimes I feel old. But that's not necessarily a bad thing. Anyhow, we were sitting and carding wool together, Da was gone transporting some goods from our town to the elves, and Bain was at a friend's house, helping him carve a pair of wooden swords. Tilda was playing with all the bits that were too snarled for me to have in my combs at the moment, so when I would get to a knot, I'd pick it out and toss it to the floor. She loves to arrange things and even then had them lined up according to size. I assumed she was busy making room for the newest snarl, which was halfway between the two biggest by moving them all down a little bit on the wooden floor, but apparently she was also thinking. She looked up at me, her brow furrowed.

"Sigrid," she began, sitting back, her fingers toying with the frayed edges of my skirt. "Why don't I have a mother like everyone else?" That day it struck me like a blow. I had never talked to her about Mam. Never. Not once. Da did not speak of it if he did not have to, and I knew better than to bring it up because Bain had a knack for not knowing when to stop asking questions. I was suddenly nervous – what should I say? I was worried I would say something foolish-sounding and ruin my chances at telling my little sister what Mam was really like, and why she had died.

"You do have a mother, Tilda," I told her, my voice very calm. "She's just not alive any more."

"I didn't know she died," Tilda said gravely. "That's too bad."

I resisted the urge to smile. "Yes. It was very sad. I remember when it happened, and Da was very very sad. He missed her so much. I think he still does."

"Is that why Da doesn't talk when he's home in the evenings?"

"I think that's because he's tired from working the barge. But he loved her very much."  
"What was she like?"

I smiled – I hadn't realized it, but I nursed memories of Mam in my head so that I wouldn't forget her, never realizing this was important for my siblings as well. "Some people said she was quiet. Other people said she was friendly. I think that is because she was a perfect combination of the two."

"So, not too quiet, but not too friendly?"

I nodded. "She was beautiful."

"How beautiful?"

"As beautiful as you." She giggled. "And she liked to sing while she worked. There was a song that always made me laugh."

"Sing it, sing it!" Tilda begged. "You almost never sing."

I realized she was right, and vowed to do it more often. I remember this song that Mam used to sing as she stirred our supper over the fire – Da came in laughing one night and said, "What is that you're singing to them? You'll make them drunkards and ne'er-do-wells!" But he laughed and kissed her and she kept on singing. It became Bain's favorite because of the jolly tune.

I cleared my throat, making sure no one else would hear. I'm not so sure about my voice. It can't decide to be airy or plain, and sometimes I think I sing better high, and sometimes I think I sing better low. I don't do it often in front of people, but I used to sing Tilda and Bain to sleep when they were smaller.

"Alright. I might get some of the words wrong," I warned, "But it went something like this.

'Here's health unto our master,

The founder of our feast;

I hope his soul, whenever he dies

May always be at rest;

That all his works may prosper

Whatever he takes in hand,

For we are all his servants,

And all at his command.'"

Tilda interrupted, "Is that true? Are we really all servants of the Master?" I nodded, and kept on singing, deciding it was not really worthwhile to explain to her how nasty the Master really was. It was just a song.

"'Then drink, men, drink,

And see you do not spill,

For if you do, you shall drink two,

It is our master's will.

'Now the work is ended

And supper it is past,

To our good mistress' health, men,

Raise a full a flowing glass.

For she is a good woman

And makes us all good cheer

Here's to our mistress's health, men,

So drink off your beer.

Then drink, men, drink,

And see you do not spill.

For if you do, you shall drink two,

It is our master's will.'"

After that I couldn't' remember any more, though I think there were at least two more verses. Tilda clapped and laughed, and said, "I like that! And our Mam would sing that?"

"Aye, she would. And so would I, and so would Bain, though he couldn't say it properly. He would sing, ''Rink, men, 'rink!"

Tilda giggled, but settled down soon. The light was dimming fast, and I had best get to my carding or else we would be working by the light of the fire. "And that's all the nicest things I can remember," I murmured, watching her face to see why she looked so sober.

"When did she die? Was it before I was born?"

"No, silly. That wouldn't make sense, now, would it," I said. Taking a deep breath, I made it sound as unrelated as possible. "She died after you were born." I wanted it to sound like that was merely the time she died, but in the silence that came after my words, it still sounded painfully like the reason. Tilda's eyes were wide. "Did she die because of me being born?"

"No." I hurriedly set aside my wool and slid from my chair to be on my knees beside her. "No, she didn't. She was sick before that, and she was so happy to have another beautiful baby to love. She just couldn't live to love you herself." I gave Tilda a hug. "So I get to do that."

Tilda sniffled. "I love you, Sigrid."

I hugged her close. "I love you too, Tilda."

Now we talk about Mam sometimes, and I sing more often. But never when Da is about, because I can see it makes him sad.

That brings me to my other memory, but I have to go to cook supper, so it will have to keep. Until next time, then.


	3. Chapter 3

So, I was going to tell of my other memory. It was about Da and making him sad by my singing. This one is more recent – well, a month ago, but I want to record it because it is so important to me. I can't believe I have had this book for a month already, and have only managed to write in it a few times. Well, actually, I should be glad I've written as much as I have. I have taken to sitting up at the table with a candle after Tilda and Bain have been put to bed. Da will mend ropes by the fire and smile occasionally at me as I write. I think he is glad I am enjoying my gift.

The day he gave it to me, (my birthday, fifteen, if you remember) was cold and bleak. All of my birthdays were – that's what comes from being born in the winter. Tilda's birthdays are like that too, but Bain has sunny weather and warm air for his. Anyhow, he told Bain to keep an eye on everything after the midday meal, which we took together, Da planning to take the barge out late after he had given me my gift. Bain said he would and he and Tilda got out the charred sticks he had begun to trade to his friends, and began to draw on the bricks of the hearth. Da beckoned me to come with him, and so I put on my coat and shawl and followed him out onto the balcony.

There is a fine view of our town from up there, and I often like to come out here at night and look at the lights of the town shimmering in the waters of the lake. Da put his arm around me, and smiled, saying to himself, "What a grown girl I've got for my daughter." I feel a lump come to my throat whenever he talks like this, and I don't really know why. I don't think I am sentimental, but I love Da so much and wish that I could help him much more than I do that I sometimes get a little undone when he talks such.

"I'm not so grown, Da," I found myself replying, my voice shaking a little. "Fifteen isn't so old."

"Not many more years and you'll be leaving us for some fisherman's son." He smiled at me, and I felt my face grow hot. Not that I have anyone in mind I'd care to marry – all the boys I know are silly and awkward, or else just plain rude – but I don't like to think of marrying. Of course it has to happen someday, and maybe I'm just deluding myself into thinking things will always be like this, Da, and me, and Bain, and Tilda all together, just having normal life. Normal life is so good, sometimes.

"It'd take more than a fisherman's son to woo me away from you," I said at last, putting my arm around his back and hugging him tight. "I'm not so sure about it all, anyway."

He chuckled, and said, "Well, I'm not either, so that makes two of us." He pulled back, and regarded me for a long moment, my hands in his. My heart always beats faster when he does that.

"I think this so much, but I never say it. Partially because if I said it each time the thought crossed my mind you'd be as vain as an heiress, and partially because –" he broke off and drew a hand over his mouth, taking mine once again as the water filled his eyes. "Because of this." He let out a wry chuckle and turned his gaze skywards, blinking into the cold wind until he recovered his composure again. My face hurt with sympathy, and I was worried about showing too much, lest Da think I was pitying him. But I was.

"You have grown to look just like your mother, and are such a strong, beautiful girl. Every day I thank Valar for your willing mind and heart in raising your siblings and caring for our home. She –" His brown eyes poured love into mine. "-she would be very, very proud of the young woman you've become."

"That's fine there, Da," I murmured, overcome with the compliment. "Thanks, but that just fine there." I mentally kicked myself for pushing away the praise, but I always feel it isn't right for a person to hear nice things about themselves. Others can say it, maybe even in their presence, but to their face is always so – wrong feeling...

"I love you," he concluded simply, drawing me into his arms, and burying his nose in my hair. "Happy birthday, Sigrid."

"Thanks, Da," I said into his shoulder, and a tiny prod from the package he held made me pull back. "Is this for me?"

He nodded, hiding a smile. "I hope you like it. I've been saving it for a long while now."

Pulling the oilskin covering off, I beheld a leathern book, full of fine pages – blank pages. This book. I'm sure I made some sort of amazed face because he laughed, and asked, "Do you know what to do with it?"

I nodded. "Write in it."

"That's right. Write. Write what you think, what you feel, what you do. That way people will read of you someday."

I rather doubt that anyone will ever read of me someday, but if they are, then I thank you. I hope you are not too bored by the things that I will write about.


	4. Chapter 4

I suppose now I will tell about the city in which we live. It is called Laketown, and as you might have guessed, it is a town on a lake. The lake is called Long Lake, and it is near the Lonely Mountain and what used to be the dwarf kingdom of Erebor. Not any more, though, but that's too long a story for now. A lot of trade is done with the elves because of how close we are to Mirkwood. I have never been beyond the Lake except for once, and it was a picnic on Bain's birthday. We went to the mainland on the long plank bridge and spent the day there. It was great fun, but I can't say I'm not happy here. Someday, though, I'd like to go to the Lonely Mountain. If only it wasn't impossible.

You see, there's a dragon that lives there, a great fire-drake named Smaug. We are all terrified on him, and rightfully so. I have never seen him. But Da's ancestors did. His ancestors were lords of Dale, the town most people who live in Laketown now used to live in. Smaug came and destroyed everything by fire, and everyone ran and hid. Everyone except Girion, that is. Da says he was brave and fired black arrows forged by the dwarves at the dragon. Still, he was not killed, and flew back to the mountain where he still is now, they say. Bain embellishes the tale when he plays with his friends, but they only do it when the adults are not nearby. They don't like to hear their children play such things.

Today I've been terribly busy with laundry. It always happens this time of month, and I am kept busier than usual keeping things clean and hidden. It's not that I'm ashamed, though I rather dislike the fact that this means I shall soon be married, but because I don't want to trouble my brother or sister with the details of adulthood and the bits and pieces that go with it. I remember when Da talked to me about becoming a woman. It was so strange, and he said that Mam should have been the one talking to me about such things, but since she was not here, he must do it. It must have been as embarrassing for him as it was for me, but since he was married I suppose he knows all there is to know, and it was only embarrassing to have to talk about it in front of his daughter. He told me to listen carefully because he wanted me to be able to talk to Tilda when the time came.

This was three years ago. I had already started binding a strip of cloth lengthways across my chest to hold it when it started getting shapelier. I didn't mind that – I thought it was rather exciting, actually, and wished I'd grow more. But I didn't understand this. I was so upset – I thought I might be dying. I noticed it in the morning when I dressed, and changed into my extra set of bloomers, trying to hide the stained ones until I could wash them out in the canal when no one was looking. I felt like I might pass out, and after it didn't stop all day, I sent the children outside and was crying in a corner when Da came in. He hurried to my side and asked what was the matter. I didn't want to tell him, but at last I showed him the stained bloomers, and still crying, asked what was wrong with me.

He just drew me into his arms with a gentle expression on his face, and at last I quieted. "What does it mean?" I asked at last. "I don't want anyone to know."

"It means you are now a woman, Sigrid, not a little girl any more." He said this without emotion, and looked me in the eye. I didn't understand. "But why is this happening?"

Da looked away and spoke quietly. "I am not the best person to explain this to you, but I suppose I must. I'm sorry I never thought of telling you before." He then explained to me that it meant some day when I am married I can become a mother, and this is just part of it meanwhile. Then he told me what I could do to deal with it more properly, and promised to help me keep it private from Bain and Tilda. I nodded.

"I don't want them to know."

He smiled. "They don't need to. Not yet."

Sometimes I even try to keep it from Da now, just because it is so personal. But he usually knows because I am anxious about the laundry all week, and send Tilda and Bain outside a little more. He just smiles, but not enough so that I am embarrassed. I'm only writing about this sort of things because I have no one else to tell about it. But I hope no one ever reads my silly thoughts. Some day this will probably make my face red, when I am grown and not so secret about these matters. I can't say I have all my questions answered yet, but Da assured me that many things I would just come to know by myself. I still wonder – if I don't 'come to know by myself' – can I still ask him? I squirm to think that I may have to. I feel so foolish now.

The weather has been growing still colder, and my fingers are stiff as I write. Bain brought in a great stack of wood this morning, but it is almost gone already. It is a deal of work to get wood brought in, because many barges won't carry it. It is too great a danger should it catch fire, and everyone is afraid of fire in Laketown. Surrounded by water, it would seem that we would fear it, but all children are taught to swim when very young, and it's the dry wood that makes up the whole of our town catching alight that we fear. Stone are purchased from the dwarves and brought in to build hearths and a great many other things. But still, Laketown is a town of wooden piles upon the water, homes and wharfs rising from that. Timber for building isn't too terribly difficult to get, as it is traded from the elven king in Mirkwood, but burning wood is different. It is gathered from the rim of the Long Lake by scavengermen, and sold in the markets.

That brings me to where I must stop, because it is time for me to go to the market myself. I need to buy fish (Da sometimes catches his own, but right now his nets are torn and he has had no time to mend them), wood (as I said), potatoes, and a variety of other things. Bain will be there – he works for Nyr's family running errands and in return they pay him a small amount and are teaching him carpentry. Da wanted him to be a bargeman, and I think that's what Bain wants too, but he likes learning to build things as well. It will be useful to have two trades, anyhow.


	5. Chapter 5

Today I have been working a great deal hanging herbs to dry. Things don't run according to season here, as we have no crops (because we have no fields in which to grow them), so food must be put up for storage all year round. These herbs were traded in from the elves, and smell so good. I washed them first, soaking them in a shallow bowl of water, each by kind. Then I cut the greatest length of the stems away, though I kept some for hanging, and dried them before the fire. At last I tied each bunch in bits of twine and hung them from a great black iron bar we have hanging above the kitchen table. It has been there as long as I can remember, and we hang things from it, like pots and pans usually, because it is so sturdy.

Now our house smells like a meadow of sweet grass, or a bower of the woodland realms. Of course, I have never smelt the woodland realms, but I imagine they smell about like this. Once, on Bain's picnic, we played in such a field of flowers that smelled all heady and pleasing, and I picked some to bring back and keep. I should have pressed them between bricks or some such, but instead I hung them from the rafters above my bed, and they kept very nicely for a while. Then, one night, there was a terrible commotion outside, and a great trampling of people by on the wooden walk. It shook the house a bit and they were so brittle that they showered down on Tilda's and my heads. We sneezed and coughed and had to take the sheets out in the morning and shake them to rid them of all the little brown bits.

Soup is cooking over the fire now. It has a good deal of potatoes and the broth from yesterday's meat, and some barley in it. I was also able to find carrots for a good price in the market, and so supper will be a little more flavorful tonight. With the addition of the herbs, it should be quite good. I wish I had gotten time to make more bread, but we have the last of the loaf from the day before yesterday, and it isn't too hard. I wrapped it well, and even if it is, it can be soaked in the broth.

Tilda had just come in from the balcony where she was drawing a picture on a sheet I gave her from my journal. Bain has made quite a business of selling or trading his charred sticks to other lads about town, and saves his profits. He used to say he was saving so that we could get a pig, but now I think he has other plans. He won't say for sure. Tilda, however, has been enlisted as a business partner, and is drawing a picture to show what nice markings the cinders can make. He says he will tack it up in the market tomorrow and see if anyone asks about it.

Lessons with Bain stopped when he learned all I knew. I taught him to read and write and to do some simple add-on and take-away. I know that dwarves are very learned, as are elves, and do ever so many more things with their children before they are considered educated, but we haven't the time for much else. Tilda learns quickly and today correctly predicted the number of barges that would be coming in if the four that usually remained out of the eleven stayed on the lake for the night. I told her to tell Da how well she did when he comes in.

Here he is, I must go. He tells me to write that soon it will be spring. I don't know why – he laughed and said it is more likely to happen if it is written down.

Hello, again, it's a little later, and we are all sitting round the hearth doing various things. Da is mending his nets, and the soft sniff of the rope running along itself as he pulls it in and out of the rents makes a nice accompaniment to the occasional snap of the fire. That was quite poetic, wasn't it, and I wasn't really trying, either. Tilda is sewing a dress for her doll, a gift for her last birthday, which was a month or so ago, out of some scraps that didn't make it into the sewing of the new quilt for us, and Bain is whittling more sticks and burying their ends in the hot ashes to blacken. I haven't really anything else to record except that it is a nice evening. Good night.


	6. Chapter 6

I am not sure what to write about now, but I am sure to think of something if I ramble long enough. I am sitting on the board walkway in front of our house, nodding to the people who pass, and smiling at those who seem inclined to smile back. We know almost everyone in our town, and everyone at least knows Da. Some of them are nice, and some of them are sour-faced, but they are all civil enough. I think they are just worried with what an amount of work living is sometimes. I have to agree with them there, but I can't see the sense in going through life with a scowl and a frown and complaining words in my mouth. Maybe I'm just young (that's what people seem to always say – they give a misty-sort-of-smile and seem to think that I'll grow out of it, as they did, I'm presuming), but I like to think that I'll always be cheerful. Life can be such fun if you look at things that way. I suppose our house is old and small, and crowded, and I never have much time to do anything except wash the dishes, and mend the clothes, and teach Bain and Tilda, and go to market, and cook and clean up afterward, but then, Da goes out on the barge every day, and I"m sure he doesn't want to. But he never complains. I think I'm lucky to live in a town where there's enough food, though it's not always the best sort, where our dishes are strong and not cracked, that I know how to patch clothes and turn them anew instead of despairing or spending the money to buy new ones, that I get to see my brother and sister all the time because one day I won't, that our market goes every day instead of just twice a week like some towns do, that I get to make good food to eat, which is not too hard to cook, and that Da has good business on the barge most of the time. So, maybe I am young and optimistic, but I can't see the sense in complaining, it makes everything so unpleasant.

I know what I can write about. Spring is really coming, and now nearly all the ice is gone from the lake and there is no more snow on the boards of the town walks. It is too warm to keep the extra quilts on the beds so I have folded them over the rafters until next winter. All the wool I carded has filled two large baskets, and today I've begun to spin it into thread. I go over to Ginna's house to do this, because she has a spinning wheel and loom, and even though she lives across the town, lots of women meet and take turns using her equipment and talking while we work. She is one of the wealthier women of the town, and her house is very near the Master's. I have never been to the Master's house, but I see important-looking people going up and down the great steps that lead to his door, wearing fur-lined robes and peaked hats.

I am by far the youngest that comes to Ginna's for spinning and weaving, but it is nice to talk to the other women. Most if it is gossip, but I find I can learn a lot from listening, rather than talking. Still, I get asked a lot of questions. "Sigrid!" Ginna had greeted. "How are you, dear? How is your father and your siblings?"

"Da is doing well enough, and so are the children," I responded, smiling over my basket of wool, and looking at the five or six other women seated or standing around her fine house. It is much larger than ours; when you first go in you are in a smaller room with hooks for cloaks and coats, and then if you go on, you are in the kitchen. She has a large table and a large preparation area which leads on into the room where her wheel and loom are. This is on the front of the house, facing the canal, and the windows are large and divided into diamond panels by the leading. At the back of the house are two separate bedrooms. I find that so interesting – a whole room just for sleeping. Why, the only separate room we have is the toilet which is downstairs at the wharf with all of Da's fishing things.

I paid Ginna the amount that I had finally gotten her to tell me last year when I had come to do the spinning, and carried my wool into the next room. Last year she had tried, kindly, to let me do my spinning without paying her. But I saw that all the other women paid and I know Da is proud and wouldn't want me to think that I was accepting something unnecessary without payment, so I paid her, same as the other women.

"Sigrid!" one of them greeted. They all know me by name, and I know most of their names now too. "How grown you are! I think you're taller since last we met."

I smiled. "Hello," I told them, and I set to work winding the thread of those who had already spun theirs, knowing they'd return the favor when it was my turn. Someone already had their thread strung onto the loom, and was busily slamming the rod up and down, passing the shuttle back and forth between the wefts and making a bold red patterned fabric. I knew how to weave some patterns, but mostly made plain things that we could get a lot of wear of. The patterned goods we bought from the merchants in the market for things like waists and trimming. Da's coat used to have some patterning around the sleeves, but it had been worn off, so I was going to put a different-colored width on the edge of my fabric when I wove it, so it would be interesting when I sewed him a new one.

Soon the thread was wound, and the wheel was unoccupied, so I took my turn. My thread was coarser than some of the others because I am not quite as skilled, and because mine is wool, not flax, but it took me all of an hour or so to spin all I had. I separated it into three lengths as the women wound for me, a great deal to leave undyed, a smaller amount to dye a deep blue, and a still smaller amount to color maroon. I wanted to knit Bain some new mittens, as his were in a sorry shape.

I didn't get a turn on the loom today, but Ginna told me to return tomorrow and the woman would be finishing her yard, and she would help me string mine properly. I know how to weave once it is all set up, but I never can remember the proper way to begin it. I appreciate the help the others give me, and the conversation.

"So, Sigrid," one of them asked me. "Has your father found someone for you to marry, yet?" I must have blushed, because they all laughed quietly and looked at one another, but I shook my head.

"No, not yet. But I don't think he's really looking."

Several of them exchanged glances. "That is to say," I hurried on, "He will, sooner or later. But he has other things on his mind now, and I don't think I'm ready."

"Look at the girl," Ginna smiled. "She says she's not ready, but look at her."

I never liked it when conversations turned this way. It usually made me hot in the face as the conversation would soon turn to husbands and birthing children. I wished I could tell them how many times I ruined the cooking or that I really do not always feel as capable as I must look. There is so much that goes undone that would not if Mam were still alive. But I try my best. I waited the conversation out, nodding politely and tried not to listen too hard to the horror stories told of Nyr's wife and how she struggled for so many years to give birth to a live child, and failed time and time again. I must have looked paleish or something, because someone noticed and said, "But here we are, frightening poor Sigrid. Children are a wonderful thing, and a joy to bear," as if that helped everything. It wasn't for myself I was thinking, but for Mam, who died herself giving Tilda life. Surely they meant no harm, though.


	7. Chapter 7

It has been such a long while since I have written. I have had another birthday, I am sixteen now. The reason I decided to write again at last is because something interesting happened – we went to the house of the Master. There have been a lot of things I haven't recorded, like Da mending the steps that lead up to our house because one of them broke and Bain fell through, giving his ankle a sad wrench (he was shut up resting it for three days and I really thought he'd go mad). Then there was Tilda getting into a fight in the market, and coming home all bruised and with a split lip. I had to scold her for that, but when I found out she was fighting because someone called her a nasty name, I had to agree with her. I told her next time to tell Bain and he would solve the trouble if there were older children getting their fun from teasing someone smaller. Da told her the same thing, only he told Bain not to fight either.

Then there were several guards which were executed for treason (treason being according to the Master's say so, and from what I hear they fell asleep while on duty). Bain was so upset at the news, as was Da, and of course we didn't attend the execution, though many did. Bain said that if it were him he would have never fallen asleep on duty, and Da replied that if he had, he should still think the death sentence an unjust punishment.

Apparently rumors were going about of our disagreeing with the Master, and he had set out spies to see if Bard the Bargeman and his family attended. When we didn't, guards came to our door and summoned us to appear before him for questioning later that afternoon. Da was very quiet, but unafraid as he told us to dress in our best and be ready to go with him as soon as he brought the barge in. First thing in the morning we all woke up, and after eating breakfast and cleaning the house, dressed in our cleanest clothing and sat at the table, too nervous to do anything else. Bain and Tilda amused each other with seeing who could avoid looking at the other person's eyes the longest, but even when they laughed, they sounded subdued. I played along for a while, and got out my knitting, but I kept missing stitches and at last set it aside. Bain said that I sighed five times without saying anything else. I was worried for Da. Does the Master think it's rebellious to not attend an execution with your young children?

But then Da came in, splashed off his face in the washing bucket, and changed into his finer jerkin. It was a little lumpy where I had to mend a burn on the bottom hem when a spark had leapt from the fireplace one evening and scorched a little hole, but on the whole he looked respectable, with his hair tied back, and his hands scrubbed clean. We all got into the small boat and he rowed us across town to the house of the Master. I think I've described it to you already. Or at least the outside, I have never been on the inside before today. But may I say, I am not anxious to return soon.

It was tall and narrow, as big as Ginna's house, but a different arrangement. The room we found ourselves ushered in to by a stooped, grimacing young man who calls himself Alfrid was dusty and narrow. He told us to wait there, and the Master would be with us shortly. Da whispered to us that we could sit down, and we did so on benches that lined one of the walls, the musty tapestry that hung the wall behind me brushing my shoulder and rubbing little bits of hair free from my braids. Bain looked all around him, as did Da, and Tilda twisted her hands in her lap, scooting close by me. I put my arm around her as we waited, and then we heard a heavy tread on the floor above us.

A deep hacking cough came down the stairs to us and Da jumped just a little as Alfrid, now wearing a dark hat, side-stepped down the stairs like a crab and announced with a spineless bow, "The Master of Laketown."

Da stood, and we did the same as the Master clumped down the stairs. He is fat and has long oily red hair combed over his balding forehead, and a scraggly mustache. His jerkin was made for him when he was much smaller, and the burst buttons were still hanging by their threads on the gaping placket of the waistcoat, exposing the bulge of his unwashed undertunic beneath. Da, even though I thought our clothes would be shabby, looked much more respectable than he did. I really wouldn't be writing these things about the Master if I ever thought anyone would read this, but I rather think he will be dead when and if anyone does, so it does not matter.

"Bard," he said, beckoning for Alfrid to step closer so that he could lean on him, the unkempt lackey showing his protruding stained teeth in a grin that made Tilda step closer to me and slip her hand into mine, "I have been hearing unpleasant things about you." He tipped his nose in the air and gave Da a wall-eyed stare. "Are they true?"

"Unpleasant is a broad term, your grace," Da said calmly. I was proud of him. "But if you mean that I would not take my family to watch three innocent men be killed, then yes, the things you hear are true."

"The Master does not try and condemn innocent men," Alfrid sneered, stumbling a little under the Master's weight on his shoulder. "You should watch your words, Bargeman."

"Perhaps he does not try and condemn them, but he kills them." Da lifted his chin. "And even if I thought their sentence just I would not take my children to witness it." He gestured toward Tilda and me and Bain. "What father would want their children to dream of wanton death at night?"

The Master didn't seem to know what to say to this, so he turned his attention to us. "Your children are quite grown, I see," he began, as if he had known us when we were younger.

"Aye." Da gave us an unreadable look. "Their mother is dead, but we manage."

"Manage?" Alfrid's sniveling voice broke in. "The people of Laketown do not manage under the rule of the Master. They thrive."

"Do they," Da said blandly. "That's news to me."

The Master was inspecting us as if we were animals for sale at the market. "This boy, what is his age?"

"Ask him," Da said shortly.

"Boy, what is your name?"

"I am Bain, son of Bard, and I am nearly twelve – your highness," he hastened to add. Da repressed a smile.

"I'm not a highness, though I deserve to be," the Master chuckled complacently, lumbering over toward us. "And you?" He put the question to my sister.

"Her name is Tilda, and she's eight," I spoke up, sounding much braver than I felt.

"Does she not speak?" the Master asked me, lifting an eyebrow. It was a disconcerting thing from him, though when Da does it, it used to make us laugh.

"Tilda –" I nudged her. "Talk to the Master."

"I- I don't want to," she whispered, and I pulled her in front of me, dropping my arms to cross her chest as she pressed into my skirt.

"What about you, girl? You seem eager to speak."

"My name is Sigrid," I murmured. I could feel Da's eyes on me as the Master peered at my face.

"She is a pretty girl, sire, and no doubt a good worker. What if she –" Alfrid turned his attention to Da, "were to come and work for the Master here? There is much she could do."

He eyed me with an absolutely terrifying leer which I suppose was meant to be encouraging. I could see the muscles in Da's face work as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. At last he said, in a strange voice, "I am not willing to have her work in a household other than our own."

"It would be an honor to be selected for work for the Master," Alfrid wheezed, drawing closer to me. I could almost feel Tilda repress the urge to scream and run bodily from the house. I didn't want to look at him, so I looked at Da instead as he repeated firmly, "That is an honor we can do without, your grace."

The Master gave Alfrid a push. "Back to our work, then." He eyed Da. "But don't let me hear of you causing trouble again, or it will be a stiff fine." He lumbered down the corridor, calling over his shoulder, "And goodness knows I could use the money." Alfrid gave me one final squinting smile, before ambling after the Master. Da put a heavy hand on my shoulder and ushered us from the house, Bain closing the door behind us. My knees felt weak.

"Are you alright?" he asked, and I nodded. "I would never, never send you to work in such a place," he muttered under his breath, pressing a kiss to my temple, and then guided us toward the boat. Tilda was very quiet all the way home, and didn't resist when I took her hand.

Bain said, "I could hardly keep from staring. I have never seen a more hideous pair of–"

"Hold your tongue, lad," Da told him sharply, eying those who might overhear us. "We are walking a fine line."

I asked quietly, "What will they do to us, Da, if they think we're causing trouble?"

"But we're not," Bain broke in. "I wish I could have told him what I think."

"And I am glad you didn't." Da pulled the oars through the water in sure strong strokes. "No need for him to think of us as more of rebels than we are."

"What are rebels, Da?" Tilda whispered. "Are we rebels?"

"Not if we don't have to be," he said quietly.

He tied up the boat, and we mounted the stairs to our house. I heard Da bar the door once we were within, and he was very preoccupied the rest of the evening.


	8. Chapter 8

The air has turned cold and signaled the approach of winter again. Summer seems so short to me, but there are so many things that we try to do that we cannot when it is cold. Da has been teaching Bain to shoot a bow and arrow this year, but it has to be done very quietly, lest the "Bard is a rebel" rumors grow. He says sons of our ancestors have been keen with the bow for centuries, ever since Girion, and we must keep up the skill. Everywhere, in the market, on the wharfs, on the boardwalks I meet people who agree with Da and say that they think the execution of the three guards was unjust, but they are afraid to do anything about it. They tell me that he is a man they would follow. I don't know what they mean by that, but I am happy because it means praise for Da. Of course, I would think he is a great man, but it pleases me to think that others are noticing too. He always does what is right and fair, and is kind to everyone. I suspect that is why business is good for him, though it has been slowing down of late. But that is owing to the lateness of the season. In the winter there is less trade between the elves and the town, and more fishing and quiet survival.

The Master gives his yearly speech on the first day snow falls (a ridiculous tradition, because that means the people of Laketown have to stand outside and listen as he pontificates from his balcony), and this year we went so as not to arouse more suspicion. Tilda kept asking me how much longer it would be, and Bain shifted and stamped his feet to keep warm until Da told him to stop. I don't know how in the world the Master can talk for so long and yet say so little. He was terribly conceited and seemed to think Laketown a flourishing city under his rule. It is anything but, but who is there to disagree with him? I pulled my hood close around my face, but I still think his servant Alfrid may have spotted us, because he showed his ugly teeth in another smile, and nodded to me. I looked away, because I did not know what else to do. He makes me feel sick.

Bain has taken to imitating them, waddling around the house with a pillow in his shirt and ordering us around, or terrorizing Tilda by smearing soot between his brows to resemble Alfrid's ungroomed appearance and leering at us. It's funny, but Da usually puts a stop to such antics if he comes in while Bain is in the middle of a performance.

At night, Tilda and I stay up whispering. She asks me so many questions about life, about the world, and about ideas. She is smart, and we have such fun together, though sometimes I have to remember how young she really is, and not burden her with too many of my worries and older things.

I must go, my candle has burned low, and Tilda is telling me to come to bed because she won't sleep until I'm there. Dear girl. I can't bear the thought that comes into my head occasionally of leaving my loving family for a strange man. I wonder if Mam felt the same way when she married Da. I wish I could ask her. Enough, though, I'm really closing now. More some other time.


	9. Chapter 9

It's now the year TA 2941 and that means I shall soon be eighteen. I can't believe I have had this book almost three years, but it is so. Tilda and I are such good friends now that she is old enough to be my confidante in most everything (but not quite, which is why I have taken up writing again). Bain is taller than I am. I can see time in the gray that now streaks the sides of Da's hair, and in my own face when I look into the glass. I am starting to feel as old as I am, and look it too. For so long I imagined I looked like such a girl, but now I feel my age – almost eighteen, and still not married. I wear my hair back always now, and Bain says it makes me look old. That's his way of saying it looks fine, I suppose.

Da has been talking to me about that. Marriage, that is. A good many girls my age are married already, and he tells me that I should be ready at any time although I don't really know what that means. It's not as if things could happen without my knowing, could it? Besides, what does 'be ready' mean? If he means ready in my skills, I feel that there's not a lot I can't do at the moment, unless it's discipline the children properly (I worry that I'm not strict enough, but I know I'm not Mam so I try not to be too harsh) or to know how to care for a young baby (since I was too little to have done much of the caring for Tilda). As for the other 'being ready' – my heart – I have no idea what I am supposed to do. Does that mean I should foster romantic thoughts so I'm eagerer to be wed? Should I spend more time with the young men of the town to see if I like any of them? (No.) Should I ask Da questions about men so I am not so surprised when one day I go to live with one? I thought that part of growing up was feeling less foolish, but I am finding myself as foolish as ever.

Anyhow, today I cut everyone's hair. We have a pair of shears that I use for almost everything, and they work on hair as well, much better than a blunt knife or dagger. I cleaned them and had Bain sharpen them for me (he now has a whetstone business, interest in the charred sticks flaggering a long time ago) and I paid him accordingly (a few pennies – he said I didn't have to, but I insisted). I set everyone down by turns, even Da. His hair does not grow terribly quickly, but he does not like it much past his shoulders. He must be able to tie it back to work on the barge, but he does not want it in his way. So I trimmed it as neatly as I could and was repaid with a kiss.

Next was Bain, who gives me the most trouble, both with his squirming and with my trying to get it to look decent. The first time I cut it far too short and he looked like a baby with nearly no hair at all. He was angry and wouldn't take off his hat for weeks until it grew around his ears again. Now I know better and just have to do a lot of turning him around and around making sure it looks right. He jumps when the cold metal rests against his forehead or neck and once I nicked his ear so that it bled, but today I did a fairly good job. It looks just like it did before, only neater and not in his eyes.

Tilda doesn't want me to cut her hair at all, complaining the whole time, and twisting around to see if I am cutting too much. She wants her hair to be long down her back like elven maids (she has been hearing tales, I'm sure – neither of us know that elves have hair like that. Da said the men's hair is long but he does not know about the women). But I told her I have to trim the ends so that they do not look ragged, and snipped only the barest of the fine silky curls at the end. Her hair is still down to the middle of her back, but I think she envies mine, which is the same length, but much thicker. I told her that hers will look the same when she is my age, and that seemed to cheer her up a bit.

Da left as soon as I finished with the shears to deliver a load of barrels up the river to the elves. The wine is from Dorwinian, and it seems the elves want a great deal of it, so that keeps winter trade flowing. The casks are enormous – I have seen them – and what with loading them and then going all the way upstream, Da won't be back tonight. He suspects he'll come in in the early hours of the morning, if all goes well. I intend to put the kettle on to give him something hot when he comes in. I saw him take his bow and quiver – a precaution he often takes when he goes out on the barge these days. I have not seen him shoot often, but he is skilled, and has a sure eye and a steady hand.

"Is your coat needing mending?" I called after him as I saw a gap under the sleeve when he strung his quiver over his shoulders.

"When I return," he smiled, and giving a little wave to Tilda who appeared in the doorway at my side, Da clattered down the stairs and picked his way through the rubbish and other refuse that lines the boardwalk. There's an awful lot to do before Bain returns from the market, and I want him to have a decent supper, so I had better go for now. More tomorrow, perhaps.

Hello, again. I am actually writing like I promised. Usually the writing of "more tomorrow" is bad luck enough to prevent my writing again for nearly a week. But not this time. Da has still not returned. I am worried, because though he often spends the night out on the barge, he has never spent two. He was supposed to return this morning, but now it is getting dark and he is still not back.

I was working on sewing a new pinafore for Tilda all day today out of the blue wovens, as I finished a new waist for myself yesterday (it is much warmer than my old one). I also made a jerkin the day before for Bain, cut down from one of Da's old ones. By turning the leather it looks almost new, and now it's just Da who will look shabby until I can make him a few new things. But I have used all the woolens I spun and buying material at market is so expensive, so I am still thinking on that one.

Food also, is going up in cost, so I am trying to conserve. Tilda sometimes tells me she is still hungry after we eat, and that makes me feel sorry, but I am trying not to worry Da by telling him how much things are costing. I think he knows. I just hope no harm has befallen him. He may very well have run into someone he knows or simply decided to wait and pick up the barrels once they are emptied (King Thranduil and his elves are known for drinking copious amounts of Dorwinion wine, so their emptying all how-ever-many-barrels for their feasts would not be unheard of). But I wish he would have told us, or some such.

Each passing hour convinces me that is not the case. I am trying not to worry, but I went ahead and decided to cook supper for everyone else. The soup can always be rewarmed, though it is not as good. I made quite a mess, chopping and stirring things too hurriedly. I needed to slow down, but worry made my motions quick and clumsy, my mind thinking hundreds of half-finished thoughts each minute, even while I was trying to tell myself I was calm. What to go with the soup... at least there is a fresh loaf of bread today (I made it yesterday, actually) and dried fruit (a treat Bain brought home from market). He just walked in, cold air with him.

"Any word of Da?" he asked. I shook my head. "The house is being watched," he said. My eyes must have been wide.

"Why?"

He shook his head in turn. "I don't know. I wonder what could have happened."

It was starting to get dark, and Tilda was standing before the window, looking out.

"Come away, Tilda," I told her. "He'll be coming in anytime."

"Aye," she murmured, but didn't sound so convinced, and there was a little line between her brows. I'm stopping for now, so we can eat, but I will write as soon as I can again. Da, come home.


	10. Chapter 10

The strangest things have happened. I am still trying to believe it as I write, but there are thirteen dwarves, and another creature, a hobbit, he said (though I'm still learning what that is) are staying at our house. Da came just before the lamps were being lit outside, and Bain must have seen him, for he slipped out, no doubt to tell him of the watch on our house. The Master must think that something is amiss, and I was soon to see he was right. Da entered the house, looking tired and worn.

I ran to him and hugged him, telling him I had been worried, while Tilda asked where he had been. Da just hugged us back, and then turned to Bain, saying, "Bring them in."

I was confused, but Bain nodded and hurried down the inside stairs to the wharf room, where Da keeps his fishing things, and where our toilet is. Da remained up in the house, barring the door and hanging his bow in its place, but I followed Bain down the stairs, and so did Tilda.

Without a word, Bain went to the lav and lifted the seat. I tried not to stare as a head emerged from the water, bald, and covered in tattoos. "If you tell anyone about this," something growled, and it took me a moment to realize it was him. Bain reached out a hand to help him, but he swiped it away and told him to get his hands off him. After the first dwarf – for that's what it was – clambered out of the water, slopping wet up the stairs behind him, there came another, and another, and another... I couldn't help but to call out to Da as to why there were dwarves coming out of our toilet. Tilda looked at me and said, "Will they bring us luck?" but I didn't answer. There were thirteen in all, plus the halfling. Dripping wet, tired, cold, and standing in our kitchen.

"Sigrid, Bain –" Da beckoned to us as we trailed up the stairs in confusion after our guests. "Tilda – come here. This is Master –" He stopped short and a dwarf with a long white beard smiled and bowed.

"Balin."

"-Master Balin and his relatives. They are journeying to visit... their kin." He trailed off, and I could tell from the way he said it and from the way the dwarves looked at us that this was just their pretense. "It is a secret that they are here – no one must see them, and you must not speak to anyone about their presence. Is that understood?"

I nodded, and Tilda and Bain did the same. The dwarves are short and heavy of build, with great masses of long hair and thick beards. They looked to be underdressed for the weather – most of them were clad only in simple tunics and trousers – and they were very hungry. They ate all the rest of the stew in the pot, plus anything else I set before them. Tilda and Bain whispered in the corner as Da ran his hands through his hair and joined me in the kitchen.

"I'll never learn all their names," I said to Da under my breath. "Why are they here?"

"They won't be staying long. They wish to be on their way to the Blue Mountains as soon as they can get provisions and weapons."

"Weapons?" This wasn't sounding very safe. "Are you sure?"

Da looked doubtful. "They paid well."

The dwarves ate ravenously, but with very little conversation. Out of the lot, I can only remember enough to write about a few of them. The halfling, of course, I can tell apart, for he is smaller, and has no beard. He is no taller than Tilda, and did not tell me his name, but seems to have very different manners from the dwarves, who have none at all. There is Master Balin, the leader, I think, an old dwarf with a long white beard and small eyes, and he seems to be diplomatic and appreciative of Da's aid. There is the one who seems to be a leader of sorts as well, though his hair is nearly black and he seems mistrustful of everyone. His beard is cut short and he speaks more than the rest, though in a low voice so that we cannot hear. There are a good many others, one with red hair who has the most ferocious appetite I have ever beheld, and then two that seem younger, one with blond hair and the other darker. They seem to be related, but I do not know.

Da apparently promised to give them clothes, so I was told to bring up a deal of the old clothing that I had for mending or repurposing, and a piece was given to each. I did not tell them that some of the waists were actually women's, and they did not seem to notice. The garments were all a little big, but they seemed grateful to be in something dry and not full of holes. I can't imagine what they are doing here, and I wonder if they will ever tell any of us. Da doesn't even believe them.

Right now they are camped out on every inch of our floor, snoring in a symphony of sound that is keeping me awake as I write. After supper, before the fire had burned too low, I gave them all the extra blankets we had to roll up in, and they took them with thanks. Then I sat down on the edge of my bed with this journal to write a bit. Tilda was laying, silent, but still awake on the pillow next to me, and Da had turned in already as well, though I doubt he slept.

I had scarcely begun to put my pencil to the page when a voice stopped me.

"What are you doing, may I ask?" I knew it was one of our guests who had spoken, but it took me a moment to realize which one. A figure pushed himself up on one elbow among the others, and gave me a grin. "Are you drawing?"

I shook my head. "Writing," I said back, not sure whether talking to him was a good idea or not. They may not mean us harm, but they are so secretive that I tend to agree with Da: if they won't trust us too far, we should not trust them too far.

The dwarf was one of the younger two, the one with dark hair and dark eyes. He looks nearer a very short man than a dwarf, because he has only a small amount of beard and isn't as stocky as the others. Maybe they get uglier as they get older. At least that's the only explanation I can think of.

"What are you writing about?" he began, but a noise beside him made him stop, and look down as another dwarf sat up and grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him back down onto the blanket.

"Leave the lass alone, Kili" he murmured. "It's none of your business." His head laid on the floor, the dark-eyed dwarf regarded me with an apologetic smile, crooked, and mischievous, like Bain when he's done something he knows he shouldn't.

Lifting his head again, the dwarf that had talked to the first regarded me in the dimming light, his blue eyes kind.

"Don't mind him, lass," he told me with a smile. "He thinks too much of himself."

I nodded stupidly, not knowing what else to say. He pulled at the neck of the too-large coat he had been given, tugging it atop his shoulder again. "Thank you for making us welcome here," he said at last, his voice a mere rumble above the snores of his companions. "You are very kind."

I nodded, knowing that the dark-haired dwarf still watched and that Tilda lay listening behind me on the bed.

"Da know what he's about, and I just do my best," I managed. That sounds so utterly servile and mindlessly domestic, both when spoken, and when written. But that, unfortunately, was what I said, and even as I write I can't really think of what would have been better.

"Well, on behalf of all of us, I thank you. I didn't get your name, lass." He regarded me with a strange look on his face, and I'm sure I must have been staring because he had to prompt me with, "I'm Fili, and my brother is Kili."

"Sigrid," I said at last, realizing he had asked for my name. "My sister's name is Tilda and my brother -" I stopped short, wondering if Da were awake, and if he would like me telling these strangers our names. But he seemed content enough to settle with mine.

"Then, thank you, Sigrid." His slightly different pronunciation of my name was strange to my ears, but sounded interesting nevertheless. I told him they were welcome, and he lay back down, and was soon snoring with the rest. I have stayed up writing this, and talking to Tilda, who is curious as to why the dwarves' journeying to see their relatives must be a secret. I didn't really answer her, but was trying to see if Da was still awake. I couldn't tell. I hope I was not wrong. Until tomorrow, then.


	11. Chapter 11

First thing in the morning I was awakened by a tremendous racket, and for a moment I tried to remember what on earth it could be. It sounded like a wall had been knocked down between a tavern and the market without, for the house rang with shouts and clangs and laughter and a great deal of trampling up and down. Then I remembered – our guests – and sat up quickly.

Thankfully, I had slept fully dressed. I hadn't really thought about it, but there wasn't a very good chance of my undressing into my shift and bloomers before all of those dwarves. Even with a shawl, the thought never even crossed my mind. Tilda had done the same, and so I threw back the quilt and clambered out of bed, smoothing my wrinkled skirt and tugged my blouse to rights under my waist which was twisted frightfully.

Dwarves were everywhere, rummaging in the kitchen, poking about in the nets and dried vegetables that o'erhung our walls, and generally seeming to be everywhere. Their not being able to go outside makes it more difficult, because our house is rather small. Da was just awakening as well, and he looked as if he hadn't slept a wink.

"Da, what am I to do? Should I get breakfast for everyone?"

He looked around us, a little helplessly, his face a mirror of my thoughts. He reached up and smoothed some loose bits of my hair behind my ears and then muttered, "Whatever we have."

I nodded and smoothed my own hair with a handful of water (I didn't suppose I had time to rebraid it and hoped it looked halfway decent) before excusing myself through the dwarves and beginning to see what on earth I could cook for breakfast. We had potatoes still, so I set Tilda to peeling them when she came to help me, and cooked a great amount of barley into mush, adding the rest of Bain's dried fruit for some flavor. So I felt rather bad offering our guests only porridge and potatoes sliced and scalded in a hot pan, but they ate it as if it were the food of kings, and Bain gave them ale instead of the water we'd offered them last night. I do believe that the entire barrel is gone now. One of them helped Bain carry it up from the wharf room and seemed surprised that we kept only one on hand. I wonder what on earth we would need with more.

Fili, the blond dwarf who spoke to me last night, approached me as soon as they had finished, and gestured toward where his brother Kili was seated on the edge of my (embarrassingly) unmade bed, talking with Tilda, who was listening with round eyes. I hope whatever he was telling her is suitable and won't have her talking nonsense later, or worse.

"Sigrid, may I have a word with you?" he said in a low voice. The top of his head just reached my chin, but somehow I still felt small next to him, because he is so wide. I felt my stomach jump a little when he said this, and I hoped this was going to be something alright.

"Yes..." I told him. "Must it be kept quiet?"

He gestured toward Kili again, and said, his head near mine, "Do you know of anyone who is skilled with medicine in this town?"

I saw the halfling clumsily explaining something to Da and gesturing to accompany his words, and Da looked to be very preoccupied, so I simply shook my head.

"There is one, but he is called Percy, and is always at the beck and call of the Master. He also works as a porter at the tollgate, so there are many who go unattended when they are ill."

He nodded. "I see."

"Is someone unwell?"

"Wounded." I looked toward where Kili eased himself from the bed to the floor, crossing his legs with a grimace and continuing to prattle on to Tilda, and now Bain, who had joined them. His face was pale and drawn, though when animated in conversation it was easy to miss. I wondered what sort of wounds one could get on a simple journey to visit relatives, but I assumed he did not want to speak of it anymore, for he thanked me and soon joined several others gathered about the fire, examining the tongs and the poker, and talking of weaponry. I must go, because there is still a deal to do – the long and short of it is Da must have promised them weapons, but they are not pleased with the implements which he could provide – mattocks and pruning hooks and spears fashioned from pike-staves. They must have come at great cost, and Da is a little put out that they are not pleased, for there are no other weapons to be had. I must go to market and see if I can manage to buy some more food for supper – it will be a hard thing to explain why, and indeed, there are loiterers all over watching our house. It is an eerie feeling, and I don't like it one bit. Whatever the dwarves are up to is not what it seems.


	12. Chapter 12

It has been such a busy few days that I've had no ti me to write. It seems such a shock, though I've been home all the while and am only getting news of these things from hearsay, but the dwarves that stayed with us are not at all who they seemed to be. Da was the one who discovered it, after one of them mentioned the black-haired one being called Thorin. It seems that Thorin is the name of the exiled prince of Erebor, and the rightful king under the mountain. So our guests were the exiled heirs of Durin! Tilda can hardly get over the excitement, that we had princes under our roof. So the silent, mistrustful dwarf that glares at everyone is actually the son of Thror, son of someone else with nearly the same name, and so on, king under the mountain. And the injured one that Tilda took such a shine to, and his brother with the great mane of blond hair are his nephews and heirs. They are trying to oust the dragon and reclaim their gold. I wonder if Da will tell them that a good deal of the gold was stolen from the Men of Dale as well.

Such strange things happened after that. Strange, and foolish in more ways than one, but they've turned out for the better so far. The dwarves were so unhappy with the weapons Da gave them that they tried to break into the armory and get proper ones. Apparently they did not understand that even in a small civilization like Laketown we have heavy law enforcement, courtesy of the Master. Too heavy, it's true, but they were caught somehow or another, and brought before the Master in the square. Bain was there, and said that Da positively argued with Thorin before all the people. Thorin wanted us to join in his quest and help him so that we can reclaim our share of the treasure, but Da recalled to everyone the demise of Dale (according to Bain, who was there watching). The Master did not agree with Da, but with the dwarves, which means we are in a deal of trouble again.

But at the last moment, when we all dressed our best and were at the main canal to see them off in splendor it seems Kili was overcome by his wound, which was in his leg, and he has been obliged to stay. One called Oin is a healer of sorts and volunteered to stay with him, as did is brother, and a fourth dwarf that had too much ale and was sleeping during the sending-off. He said his name was Bofur (I hope I am spelling that right).

So now we have four dwarves that are still staying with us. Da is not pleased. Kili has been put on Bain's narrow bed, and he is sleeping before the fire now, with Oin and Bofur and Fili. He seems to be in a bad way, but we are doing all we can to ease him. Fili seems quite concerned for his brother, and Oin is always in our kitchen concocting various brews of the oddest things. Our house smells like an apothecary, and Da told us to open the windows last night so that we would not smother. Kili talked in his fevered sleep all through the wee hours and kept me awake. I thought I was the only one, but it turns out not.

Footsteps made me look through the shadows to see a great head of blond hair bend over the bed and then he made his way to the kitchen. I could just see him crashing into the various things I have hanging in odd places, or the stuff that Oin has left lying about, so I got up as quietly as I could and asked in a whisper, "Is there something I can find for you?"

He startled a bit, but replied, "A cloth, and a small bowl of water, if it isn't too much trouble. He is so hot."

I fetched the desired things, and went with him to Kili's cot, each of us sitting on either side of him. He did not arouse, but stirred in his sleep and mumbled something about the bright light above him. The slight breeze coming from the cracked windows made me shiver and wrap my arms round each other, wishing I had grabbed my shawl.

"Should we wake Oin?" I asked at last, growing awkward just sitting in silence and watching him draw the cool cloth over his brother's damp forehead.

"No, no," Fili shook his head, not meeting my eye. "I'll watch by him tonight."

"Wake me if you need a relief," I said, and he looked up, surprise in his gaze. I stood there, wondering if he was going to say something, something like, "Oh no, I'll manage," or the like. Dwarves are very proud, and stubborn, I am finding.

"Thank you," he said simply, instead of protesting as I expected. It filled me with a warm feeling that did not go away as I climbed back in bed next to Tilda and waited for sleep to come. I'm trying not to think too much on it, but I should not be sorry to speak to him – all of our guests, that is – more. They are so different than we are, but that is not necessarily bad.

I can still see Fili sitting by Kili's side as I write in the dimness. I don't think he still knows I am awake, but he is carefully fingering through his brother's sweaty tangled hair and working out the knots there. I see that dwarves have a gentle side, though most wouldn't guess it. But I should be afraid to meet one of them when angry, whatever anyone says. They look so fierce and for the most part are great fighters, all of them. I have heard that their broad hands can fasten the most delicate of things from metal and jewels, but I have yet to see that proven. But by the looks of it, as Fili puts tidier braids into Kili's hair, his hands are very skilled for all their roughness.

I am really rambling nonsense now, and must stop. Tilda tells me to write that she hopes Kili does not die, because she thinks he is nice.


	13. Chapter 13

Hello, again. This may sound funny, but I almost feel like this journal is the only thing that hasn't changed since our guests came. Of course, I know that Da is the same, and so is Tilda, and so is Bain, and that I am the same even if our house smells like I don't know what, and there are dwarves sleeping in odd corners and doing the strangest things at any given hour of the day. Da was reluctant to leave this morning, knowing that I'd be alone with the children and our guests, but he is eager to show the Master that nothing is amiss, and that life will continue as it always has, despite the dwarves and their promises of gold, and Da's bold stand against the Master's choice to side with them.

I have the strangest feeling of being a traitor in all this. I know that Da thinks the dwarves are being foolish in awakening the dragon and that this will only bring destruction and death on our town. I am afraid just thinking about it, because Da is rarely wrong. But then we are welcoming and caring for members of their company even though we wish they weren't here at all. I say that, but I don't think I really mean it.

Of course we must make them welcome, just as we would make anyone welcome. But isn't it strange that we feel so differently about things and still sit down each night to supper around the same table? I'm afraid I said as much to one of them and this is how it went.

I was sitting on the top of the steps before our house, a bowl in my lap, husking some dark corn we traded at the market which I was hoping to dry and grind into meal. Corncakes are so nice on a cold night, cooked on the coals and tasting of sweet summer and ash and a pinch of salt. Then I heard the door opening behind me, and I saw Fili come out, his pipe in hand, a small spiral of smoke wisping in the air. He smiled at me and leaned on the railing, taking a deep breath of the fragrant fumes (Da asked that they not smoke in the house).

"What are you after, lass?" he asked me at length, and I looked up with a brief smile, thinking he was referring to my work. So I answered, "Nothing much, just hulling this so it can dry properly."

"No, I meant in this world."

I stopped, turning around to look at him. His eyes were serious, and he held his pipe, forgotten, as he looked away from me and watched the great shadow of the Blue Mountain beyond the lake. "What are you after in this world?"

I hadn't really any answer for that, so I just thought for a long moment. "What are you after?" I asked at last, feeling suddenly young and inexperienced next to one such as he is, a brave, wandering warrior, fighting to reclaim his lost kingdom.

"I don't know," he said, and his voice was filled with utter confusion, like when I had asked Da what we were going to do about the dwarves, and the Master, and the mess we'd gotten ourselves into. "I really don't know."

"You're a prince," I began slowly. "You ought to know."

He looked at me. "Yes. And it's the fact that I don't that weighs on me so."

"I didn't mean it like that –" I hastened to add, fearing I'd offended him. "I was only trying to say that – you know. You should have great plans. Befitting your great birth."

"No, you're right." He took another draw on his pipe, and I returned to my work, my back to him. His voice came at last, a deep sound that makes me think of distant thunder.

"I envy you, in a way."

That surprised me. Why on earth would he envy me? "What of?" I asked after deliberating a long while, and deciding it were best to be honest.

"Your simple life. I wouldn't have my life any other way, though I am born to great things, as you say." He smiled, and when he does he looks so much less fierce and forbidding. "But I am to be king. And I must learn what I want in the world, and then do it."

"If I were in your place, I'd only want one thing," I said. I don't really know why I was so bold, but that's what I said. He looked eager.

"What is it?"

"Enough," I said simply. "Peace enough to keep us from war. Food enough to keep us from starving. Work enough to keep us from idleness." I plunked the last of the grain into my bowl, and turned to look at him. "And love enough to keep us always happy."

He looked at me for a long while, and at last heaved a great sigh. "You make it sound so simple, lass."

Do I? It doesn't seem so complicated to me, but then, I am not a wandering dwarf prince who will one day be responsible for the fates of all of his people. It would seem to me to be very important for someone who is in charge of others to know himself very well first, so that anything he did, he knows will be right and good and in keeping with his heart. I do not think people like the Master were born bad, I just think that power came upon them too quickly and before they knew what they were about, they made rash decisions and everyone else has to pay. I may be wrong. But I think that whenever this prince becomes king of the dwarves, he will be good at it. It is because he thinks and questions. He seems to think that this is bad, but I would think it bad if he didn't.


	14. Chapter 14

Today I have been working a great deal, with Tilda to help me. It was funny because Oin, who is quite deaf, offered to help as well, and I had a time of it trying to get him to understand he needn't, because he is a guest. Really, it's because I think he wouldn't know how to do it properly.

Even though it is winter, the days have been feeling unseasonably warm, and as such I've gotten into such a mood of cleaning that I've turned the house nearly upside down. Yesterday I took out all the pots and pans and scoured them with a great deal of sand in the canal. The water is still barely not ice, but it wasn't bad, and I came in to warm up by the fire a few times when my hands grew too numb. Then I swept the floors until they practically shone (and just afterward Bain came in, then Da, so I shall have to begin again, but it's alright – I'll probably just wait until it really needs it).

In spite of all my cleaning, there's still a good deal that needs done, but I've discovered long ago that everything is never done. It is better to do as much as you can, and then enjoy the rest of your time. Tilda and I have been singing like birds all day, and it is a comfort to know that the dwarf is deaf. Kili seems cheered by it and sometimes joins in though he doesn't know the songs, and so does Bofur, with a flute he magically produced from somewhere on his person. He told Tilda that it was taken from him before, but that he knew someone who was on good terms with the guard of where they were prisoner, and was able to obtain it again. Kili smiled at this, so I wonder if there is something they are not telling us. No matter.

I haven't talked to Fili much since the other night. It is strange, but now I feel as if anything I say to him would be awkward after our conversation. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but sometimes I catch him watching me as I work and I always look away. I'm sure he means well, but it is uncomfortable.

Kili doesn't seem much better, in fact, I am beginning to be greatly worried. His lips are paler than any creature's should be and his voice, when he talks or sings, is raspy and sounds very... wrong. Oin is daily feeding him various concoctions of the oddest-sounding things that he has me fetch from market. Today, for instance, he was giving him broth made from the boiled feet of chickens. They were a strange request to be sure, and the butcher, Rani, looked at me as if I were out of my senses, but I couldn't very well explain we had an injured dwarf staying at our house and his physician seemed to think this would help. Well, I suppose I could, the dwarves and their mission being in favor with the Master and all, but I didn't, so as more rumors would not get to going round.

Da took me aside earlier, and asked if for a moment Bain would come in and keep Tilda and Bofur company (they were playing checkers). What he meant was would he keep an eye on things so that he could talk to me alone. I pulled on my coat and followed him down to the wharf room, and we sat together on a bench there for a long while in silence. Finally he began to speak.

"Sigrid, all of this is worrying me beyond reason." I listened attentively. I knew he had been upset ever since the dwarves came – he had been even more so when he learned who they were and what their mission was. "The townspeople ridicule us."

"What are they saying, Da?" I asked him. "I'm sure you shouldn't mind them."

"They mock not only me, but my ancestors, and say that I am a coward, and backward and selfish not to join them in encouraging this wild scheme of the dwarves' company."

"You mean that Girion did not kill the dragon," I said slowly. "It wasn't his fault. And there were no more black arrows. Isn't that what you've always told us?" I watched him for some sign of response, but he merely stared across the canal, his face still.

"Do you think I am a coward?" he asked me at last, turning and looking into my eyes. Oh, Da. What a lot of serious conversations I've been having these past few days.

"Of course not," I murmured. "I think you're right. What if the dragon comes here."

"He will," Da said. It took me a minute to realize that was what he'd said, and then I wished that I could un-hear it.

"You think he really will?" I asked at great length. He nodded.

"What are we to do?"

And for the second time this week, I got the terribly confused response that I hate to hear in the voice of a man. "I don't know."

"Come on, Da, tell us. What can be done? Something always can be done," I prompted, though my voice was not sounding at all like my usual voice, and it seemed almost as if I were listening to someone else say it, and that through a heavy curtain.

"I don't know if anything can be done," Da said at last, running a hand through his hair. "If the dragon comes – Esgaroth will meet the fate of Dale."

It is not often that someone uses the proper name of our town – most just call it Laketown, even us. That alone made me shiver, and it was not from the cold. It was rather like the time that an old woman we all called Halma died, and when she was being remembered, people spoke her full name, and it was Halmatala daughter of Mjotra. I don't think anyone knew that was her real name until she died, and I feel the same way about calling Laketown Esgaroth. It is like it is dead, fated, doomed to be just a remembrance on a map. Fear struck my heart like a smith's hammer.

"Don't tell the others," I whispered, and Da looked at me, a strange light in his eyes.

"Don't you think so? They ought to know of the coming disaster."

"I mean Bain and Tilda."

Da nodded. "I think you are right. There is no need to worry them. There will be time enough for that later."

I hate that. As if it is inevitable. I am resisting the very great urge to ask Fili about it. Somehow I feel Da would not like that, but at the same time I feel that he might have something valuable to say on the subject. Every time I close my eyes I hear the labored breathing of Kili on Bain's bed, and the flicker of the fire lingers before my sight, and I seem to see a city swimming in flames. I pray to Valar this is not a foreshadowing. I decided I will talk to the dwarf prince about this tomorrow, if I can. I hope he won't think me prying.

Well it is not tomorrow, it is later, nearly moonrise. The above I wrote just after supper, and since then I had the opportunity to speak to Fili, but nearly lost it through my own clodpated folly. He told me that he was not going to sleep, as Kili was growing steadily worse, and I joined him in examining the wound, along with Oin who would not be persuaded to rewrap it because of Kili's groaning. It frightens Tilda when he does this. She came to my side, her eyes worried.

"Is he going to die, Sigrid?" she asked me, and I was forced to give her no answer. I cannot lie, but I very greatly fear that this wound will end in his death. The thought gives me pain, as I can see that Fili and Kili were close– no, are close. Let's stick to the present, it's so much more hopeful. They are close, as close as I am with my siblings. I cannot imagine what it would be like were I to lose Tilda, or Bain. Even tending to my brother when his foot was injured was a saddening task for me, to see his face pale and drawn, his foot swollen beyond recognition.

Tilda has taken a great fancy to our guests, especially Kili, as I think I have said. He has been making jokes and taking a keen interest in the goings-ons about him since he has come, but daily has grown weaker, and now no longer seems to know where he is or what he is saying. His ravings are loud and disturbing – Tilda has been crying sometimes at night, and I take her into my arms and sing quietly until she goes to sleep. That is what brought about this conversation.

Fili looked up from Kili's face at last, as if it pained him to look upon his brother so altered. "When you sing at night, do you sing for your sister?"

I nodded, wondering how on earth he could have heard me, for I barely speak above a whisper, just enough so that the notes are a vibration in my throat and not just air between my lips.

"She is frightened," I replied, flinching as Kili cried out at Oin's probing touch. "But it is alright– he can't help it."

"I am sorry for the trouble we have brought on you," Fili said quietly, not looking up. I stared at the top of his head, a great mass of light gold hair that fell forward to obscure his face. "I hope you and the young ones are safe."

"Safe from what...?" I said quietly, knowing that Bain was still awake and probably trying to listen. "You don't think what Da does, do you?"

Fili looked up. "Does your father think that the dragon will come?"

I nodded, and he looked away.

"Then he is right."

I need to close now. Sometimes I wish there were someone to sing me to sleep when I am afraid.


	15. Chapter 15

I was right to have been afraid, but I did not know how much. I was certain that something was going to happen, but I had no idea what. It has been a while, and I have not written because I could not find this journal. But that will be explained when I tell what has happened here.

There wasn't anything particular happening, except cleaning up after supper. Fili had been trying to convince Kili to eat some of the soup we had, but he was refusing because he said he felt he would throw it up if he ate. He is becoming sicker and sicker. Fili has been spending much of his time standing on the balcony and looking toward the Lonely Mountain, deep in thought. Da went out on to the barge today, but returned early, saying there was no work for him.

Da looked at Bofur. "The rumors," he said bluntly. "They say that your kin have entered Erebor. Nothing will prevent the coming disaster. Not now."

I was shocked that Da would speak so in front of us, before our guests. But he speaks as he thinks, no matter the consequences. Even dwarves can grow pale, I've found, because these dwarves certainly did. Bofur advanced toward Da, his eyes wide.

"I am truly sorry, Bard," he said. "Whatever happens, I hope you and your young ones are safe."

"You should have said that before your people awakened the dragon," Da muttered.

Kili let out a cry of pain and Fili went to him, Bofur too, as Tilda watched in fear from the kitchen where we were standing.

"He needs some of that stuff from the elves," Bofur said under his breath. "Maybe that would heal him. Kinsfoil," he said turning to Da. "Do you have a plant called kingsfoil here?" It is a weed - people feed it to their pigs. Da told him as much, and without another word Bofur ran out the door. As soon as he slammed the door behind him, the house gave a shudder, and dust rained down from the rafters above us. Bain ran to the window. I looked quickly at Da, and he met my gaze.

"It's coming from the mountain," Bain said, his eyes wide.

Fili looked up at us from where he bent over his brother. "You should leave us." His eyes pleaded with Da. "Take your children, and get out of here."

"And go where?" Da's eyes were burning, his voice laced with vehemence. "There is nowhere to go."

Tilda advanced, looking so small suddenly as she crossed the floor. "Are we going to die, Da?" she whispered.

"No, darling," he told her, laying a hand on her head, and looking at the rafters. I thought it a bravely told lie.

"The dragon," Tilda insisted. "He is going to kill us."

Then Da did the most astonishing thing. I jumped back as he reached above me and seized the iron rod that that we hang our pots and pans from, and giving it a strong pull, yanked it from its place, tumbling dried onions and herbs and cookware down upon the preparation area.

Bain stared - we all did. It was not just a rod. I had never given it any notice, never in my life. But as plain as day I could see it now. It's twisted tip, it's heavy black vanes. It was a black arrow.

"Not if I kill it first," he said, and he strode out the door. I gave Bane a wild look, and he hurried after him.

"What is he doing?" Fili demanded, rushing over to the window at the same time that I did. We pressed close to the glass, trying to see out as Da peered around the corner and then hurried shadow to shadow with Bain on his trail.

"The dwarvish windlance." I pointed. "It is the only thing powerful enough -"

"-To pierce the armor of a dragon," he finished, his eyes bright with memory. "My uncle has told us stories of Girion's stand during the destruction of Dale." He turned to me, but I looked away after only a moment, trying to see where Da was now. "Are the stories true? Is there really a loosened scale under the wing?"

The stories said as much, but none placed stock in them. None except Da, and he would know, Girion was his kin after all. Bain mentioned this to one of the dwarves when they first came, but he told him it was nothing but a fairy story. Bain didn't say anything then, but I know he did not believe him.

"He is going to fire the windlance..." I whispered. "When the dragon comes, Da is going to be up there -"

I could not keep my mind on my work. We ate supper in near silence, Bain returning part of the way through, but without Da. I looked at him in silent questioning, but he shook his head, looking pale and worried. No one said a word as we ate. As soon as I had finished cleaning up the kitchen with Tilda, who still said nothing at all the entire time, I sat to shelling a bowl of walnuts, but grew restless and went out onto the balcony, looking for any sign of Da. By night nearly all the canals were covered with ice, and I could hear the crackle of the loose bits as they bobbed against each other, and against the wooden pilings. Shadows lingered in odd places, and seemed to shift from rooftop to rooftop. I shivered - the wind was cold, and continued to look and listen.

I heard nothing else for a long while, and then the sound of footsteps seemed to come on the night wind. I could still see nothing, so I leaned over the parapet, daring to call out.

"Da?" There was no answer. "Is that you?"

Suddenly, behind me there was a terrible crashing, I turned to see the most terrifying creature I have ever beheld leap from the roof and let out an ear-piercing screech. I had heard of such creatures, but never seen any, nor ever hope to again. They are called orcs - at least that is the only thing I have ever heard of that would fit this description. I shudder even now as I write.

I screamed, and dashed for the door, trying to pull it shut behind me, but the creature got his hideous face through, as well as a dark twisted leg, and would not budge. Tilda saw my struggle and started screaming, just as our roof was broken in from above, and another tumbled in through the roof, landing on our table and brandishing an enormous weapon. My heart was pounding so much that I felt like I was going to faint as the door was burst down and more orcs poured through.

Tilda, brave girl, threw dishes at the one nearest to her, as Bain and Oin and Fili began to put up valiant resistance. Oin threw an armful of pots and pans at one who burst through the door, and he swung his great blade in my direction. I threw myself backwards onto one of the benches, and tumbled beneath the table just in time to see Fili charge him, his arms wrapping around his waist as he bore him into the wall behind.

The orc threw Fili away from him and he landed on the floor next to the table as yet another orc crashed through the roof before Tilda. Screaming, she dove under the table with me and we clung together as Bain and Oin and Fili fought around us. I could not believe it. In our house, in our kitchen - we were all going to die, I was sure of it. I could see Kili on the bed, and he sat up, looking terrified and feverish at the fighting all about him.

Orcs were still pouring through the open door and the broken roof, and suddenly our shelter was upended, one of them grabbing it and flinging it over, exposing Tilda and me to their flashing blades. Oin rushed across the room and stood before us, guarding us from harm, and then I saw from behind him - another creature stood in the doorway, tall, and beautiful, and wielding a slender blade She was an elf- I saw her pointed ears. A second elf dropped through the roof above and took in the situation at a glance, plunging into the fray and dispatching several of the orcs in the space of a few seconds.

I stared - I had never seen such dark blood spilling from flesh and running upon our floor. I heard a yelling and turned to see one of the orcs dragging Kili by the foot from his bed; the elf saw this too, and whirling, nailed him to the wall with her blade, producing another instantly from seeming nowhere. Tilda's screams still filled my ears, as did the clash of arms and the groans of those who were having keen metal plunged into their bodies - it makes me feel cold all over to remember even now. Kili pulled a knife of his own from somewhere and stabbed an orc from behind, tumbling from the bed in agony no sooner than he finished. I lifted my head and pulled the edge of my skirt out from under my shoe, looking around to see if the way was clear for me to go to him, but a great blow was struck on the back of my shoulders and Fili was suddenly there, bearing me to the floor and shouting, "Get down!"

And just as suddenly as they had come, the orcs were pouring out the door, leaping over the balcony and vanishing into the night with guttural shouts and the trampling of many feet. Tilda was crying and Bain rushed to us, clambering over the fallen table and benches and wrapping his arms around our shoulders. Fili stood, and regarded the ruined house with pain in his eyes, both of the elves still standing near the doorway.

"Tauriel -" the elven man spoke, sheathing his blades and turning at the door, and speaking quickly in words I could not understand. If it was elvish then it was one of the most beautiful languages I have ever heard, even if his words did not sound kind.

She shook her head, casting a glance back over her shoulder at where Kili still lay in a heap, gasping for air, Oin kneeling beside him. She replied in the same tongue and then he was gone. I stood, my legs shaking so that I thought I should fall to the ground again, but Bain held my arm and then helped me upend the table. I started to put things to rights, picking up a bowl and beginning to fill it with the scattered walnuts in a stupid numb way. I did not know what else to do, and my body was moving independent of my mind. Kili let out another cry and Fili hurried to his brother's side. I must finish this, for there will be no more time for writing any time soon.

"He is fading," he began, and tried to lift him. "Help me," he demanded, and suddenly Bofur was there as well, and between the three, they lifted him to the table, Bain pushing aside the bowl of nuts, and lying him atop it. The elf seized an empty bowl and thrust it into Tilda's hands, beginning to shred a handful of weeds into it - weeds with long tangled stems and tiny white flowers. Kili was yelling most terribly, with hardly a breath in between, and Fili growled, "Hold him down."

I called to Tilda and she rushed forward, each of us joining in the effort to pin the writhing young dwarf to the table. Fili's hand pressed down next to mine on his shoulders and for a moment he looked into my eyes. There was pain there, and fear. Then the elf began to chant something in her language. The words were beautiful and hypnotic, and Kili's gradually relaxed under her touch as she plastered the leaves to his wound, and continued to plead with the spirits, it seemed, for his life.

That is all - he is sleeping peacefully now, and the house has been righted enough for us to retire to bed, though I cannot sleep. Through the holes in the roof I can see the stars, and Da has still not come home. What is going to happen I do not know. I don't know what else to say, but that I pray Valar everyone will be alright in the end.


	16. Chapter 16

I haven't time for a proper entry, now, but I must write a little. Everything is different. We are living with some of the others on the shores of the lake, in makeshift tents and other shelters. It is too stunning. The dragon came, and Laketown burned. It was a nightmare, and I still wake up in the darkness sweating and feverish, seeing flames before my eyes and hearing the people's screams in my ears.

Da was so brave. He stood on the tower, behind the great windlance in the midst of the firestorm, and took careful aim with the great black arrow. I did not see the shot, but his aim did not fail and none could miss the great screech and the billows of smoke that came as Smaug fell into the lake, writhing and flaming and sinking at last in death. Da made his ancestors proud, and now people call him Bard the Bowman instead of Bard the Bargeman.

Our company is so small on the edge of the lake. Many are dead, and almost nothing was saved from the town. The windlance itself caught fire, and Da was badly burned in trying to descend before it collapsed completely. I have been kept busy caring for him and the others injured in the destruction. Bain's arm has been badly scorched when his sleeve caught fire, and he does not complain, but I can see it gives him great pain. There were so many injured far worse.

Da's hands are so bad that he can do no work, and it chafes him to see the men of our camp setting tents and driving stakes and cutting wood for fire. But he is being hailed as a hero, and he has done enough in keeping us safe. For he has done that, and we are all alive, and together.

Kili, Oin, Fili, and Bofur are still with us, though they say soon they must leave and join those at the Lonely Mountain, as they will be waiting for them. I had another conversation with Fili last night, as everyone was seated around the fires eating.

I cannot bring myself to sit near the flames, not after what I have seen. It seems to comfort others, for the nights are cold, and goodness knows there is little comfort camping on the edge of a winter lake with no proper food or shelter or even clothing, but it still makes me feel sick. My legs were scathed by the flames when my skirt caught fire, and I could not get it put out fast enough in trying to protect Tilda from the falling of timbers all around. Bain was not with us, having taken a group of young children who could not find their parents and rowing them into the middle of one of the larger harbors where the flames could not reach. It is a wonder the dragon's keen and cruel eye did not see them and finish them off there, but Bain did well, and though some are orphans now, many parents were happily reunited with their children at the finish of it all. He is fast becoming a man, and a good one at that.

Anyhow, I was walking a little ways away from the others, and at last sat down on a large piece of drifting wood that washed up near the water, pulling off my shoes (my stockings were lost, and my shoes are very badly scorched, but I must keep them or else have nothing). I found I was still not near enough the water's edge, so I set my shoes upon the driftwood and slid to the pebbled ground, tucking my skirt up around my legs, and scooping the icy water with my hands over my scorched ankles. It was too dark to see if I was doing them any service, but it is such a relieving feeling for the prickling burns to be doused in the cold water.

I did not even hear footsteps, so lost in thought I was. But a voice startled me. "Why are you not with the others? It is cold out here."

It was Fili. He stood silhouetted against the dark sky, the stars spangling the air above him, and seeming to wink down on the tiny group of refugees that camp at the edge of Long Lake.

"It's the fires." I think he understood, for he seated himself on the driftwood, the ever-present pipe in his hands. I will never understand how such an item can come unharmed through the thick and thin of the things he gets himself into, but I suppose he keeps it on his person, and treasures it greatly. It is covered in all sorts of carvings that make it look almost as if it were woven as a basket, and has brass fittings. It seems must be no small trinket; I don't know what he smokes in it now, but it seems to comfort him in the evening hours.

"You should have Oin look at those burns," he said at last.

"It isn't bad," I found myself saying. I always write that of myself, but it is true, I 'find myself saying' things that I don't know what or often why. "It will likely heal on its own."

"I'm no physician, but it looks as if it would scar, and I shouldn't like to think of that."

"There would be worse things." I could hardly believe my own ears - I sounded absolutely forbidding. Fili looked a little taken aback, but then he smiled, wrinkles by the sides of his eyes giving him a sage look, though he is young.

"You are right. But -" He stopped as I yanked my skirt down over my legs and looked off over the lake, smoke still rising from our ruined city, "You sound... despondent."

"My home has been destroyed..." I murmured. "People I know have died." I was embarrassed to find tears running down my face, though I hadn't thought I was crying. "After a long while of being strong, it just becomes hard, is all..."

The pebbles crunched as Fili put aside his pipe, and knelt next to me, the action startling further comments from my mind.

"If it is true that you are feeling weak, lass, I would not be the one to turn away. I see how you lead your family, and are a worthy daughter to your father. It is not wrong to feel weak. Just to despair entirely."

As he spoke, soft wisps of smoke came upon his breath, and I could feel the heat of him near me against the cold air of the night. I wrapped my arms around my legs and winced as it pressed the roughened, dirty cloth into the raw flesh.

"May I see?"

I shook my head. "It's alright, really."

He listed his head to one side. "Come. You had a look at mine when we met again to count our numbers. Oin has given me salve to put on it, and it hardly gives me pain." He indicated the side of his face, which had gotten a scorching, and was even now dark and angry against the pale of the rest of his face. It was true. I had cleaned the ash and debris from his wound by the light of the setting sun the day Esgaroth was torched. I had not given it much thought, but his warm gaze on mine had lingered in my heart and given me some semblance of comfort that first night.

"Very well," I murmured, turning to face him, and easing up the ragged hem of my dress so that he could see the flaring marks that wrapped my lower legs. "But don't touch it..." I added in a small voice. "It does hurt."

Bending, Fili examined the burns for a while, taking my foot with a gentle hand and turning it to the side so he could view the extent of the damage.

"My stockings took the worst of it," I said, feeling the heat creep into my face as if the burn were there, not my ankles. "I couldn't put the flames out fast enough."

Standing without a word, Fili removed the heavy coat he was wearing - a man's coat that was too long for him - and draped it around my shoulders.

"Come back to us when you're ready," he said simply, and retreated into the night. Quiet murmurs of conversation come to me from where the others are, but most are retiring for bed. I have finished writing, I suppose, and I think I'll go and join them. I suppose this was a proper entry after all.


	17. Chapter 17

We saw the dwarves off today, but they promised to return with their kin and the aid of the elves, if they could get it, to help us in rebuilding. A great meeting was had and it has been decided that we will indeed rebuild here on the edge of the lake. The ring of hammers as temporary residences are being put up even now sound all around me, and I can't write long, because I must go to give the men their midday meal. I have joined with several other of the women in cooking large amounts of whatever we can find to ease the bellies of those at work, and to quiet the hungry children. Though it is far from delicious, and not nearly so plentiful as I'd like, it keeps them warm and strengthened, and we must keep it up. The stew only has fish in it, caught from the lake and boiled in freshwater from the river, and we have added to it whatever roots can be dug or herbs that can be scavenged. It boils down into a thick strong-smelling mass, and already Tilda has begun to complain of it, but I tell her to hush, and that we should be glad to have anything at all. Though I have to agree with her, it is not very appetizing after nearly a week of nothing else.

The council meeting was made up of all the surviving men, and boys old enough to understand the plight of our group. Bain stood tall next to Da, and a few other young men near his age, and held their own with the seasoned porters and fisherman. The Master and Alfrid have not been seen since the dragon came, and many think they were able to make their escape with the wealth of the town, small though it was, before it was too late. Anyhow, after a short amount of deliberation, Da has been named lord of our people, on account of his lineage, and his bravery. I am proud of him. He will be a good leader. Though this makes me lady of the people, I do not feel it. I work alongside everyone else, and no one treats me differently, or really seems to take much notice of it, for which I am glad. No one has even mentioned it since, that I recall. No one but Fili.

As they were leaving he gave me a warm smile, and told me I should give him my hand, since we are nearly equals now - he a prince of his people, I the lady of mine. But I shook my head, and said only, "That's silly," in a quiet voice. He nodded, and though the others called for him to come along, he remained standing before me for another long moment.

"I hope we meet again, Sigrid," he said, the roughness his tongue gave my name again sending chills down my spine.

I did not know what to say, so I nodded, and gave him the package of dried fish we had prepared for their journeying. "It won't last you until the mountain, but it will keep you for several days," I murmured, putting it into his hands, not being able to bring myself to turn and walk away yet, though I knew that is what I should do. I think I am going to miss him- miss his company, miss the odd looks we exchange sometimes during work, miss his deep laughter and his easy smile. I don't know if this is proper or not to be feeling this way, and I'm sure it will all fade into the past once he is gone. But still, I can't help but feel I will treat it as I do memories of Mam - when I cannot fall asleep at night I close my eyes and picture their face, the way they look when they talk, or smile, or laugh, and try to hear their voice in my ears, or whisper their words on the breath of night.

"Fili! Come on!" Bofur shouted from the rise, and Fili met my gaze.

"Gaubdûkhimágagin yâkùlib Mahal," he said in his language. "May we meet again with the grace of Mahal."

I nodded, and replied, "Have a safe journey."

And he turned and walked away.

The day has been such a long one I am ready to drop this journal in exhaustion. It will be a long road to rebuilding Esgaroth, but work I welcome willingly. It is our city, after all. I will lay one stone after another from the wreckage. And even if that is all I ever do, I want people to be able to look back over time and see me as the little-known but greatly honored woman who had no idea what she was about in life beyond cooking and cleaning and raising her brother and sister, but ended up doing a lot more. It may be too much to ask, but I am willing to try.


	18. Chapter 18

Hello, again. I am ashamed to write what a long time it has been since my last entry, but I will say that it is in the middle of summer now, and slowly, but surely, progress is being made on the reconstruction of the city. No word has been heard from Durin's folk, but we try not to concern ourselves too much, though they did promise to return and give us aid if it it ever needed.

The wavering air is so nice against my skin, and the sun is shining so that it is almost too warm. The elves of Mirkwood have been kind in sending us all sorts of things downriver for our sustenance and the rebuilding of the town - we even met with the red-haired elf that saved the injured dwarf's life. Later we were to find out that he holds a great love for her, though their races are enemies. But their paths are separated, and I know nothing else beyond that.

The barge - a terrible make-shift raft-sort-of-thing that has been serving our purposes - was being unloaded, relieved of barrels of ale and casks of other materials and eatables, by four tall elves, clad in grey and deep blue and green, hooded and armed. It was Tilda that saw the bright hair first, and she came running up to me, leaving her playmates calling after her.

"Sigrid!" She pulled my arm. "Look, it's the elf - the beautiful elf who spoke the magic and healed Kili!"

"You're right," I realized. "I wonder what she is doing here."

"Go and speak to her," Tilda urged. "Tell her that we are grateful to her for saving us."

"Tell her that yourself," I told her, smiling. "I'll go with you."

Shyly, she approached the elves, and I followed close by. I suddenly realized what a sight we must look to the graceful beings. Our clothing is all in rags and tatters, and no one has a bathe as often as they should, because it is so hot and impossible to keep clean when there is so much work to be done. Tilda's hair hangs near her waist and is rough with tangles. Mine is probably no better, and the sun has browned our skin. But just then, she turned, and regarded Tilda with a smile.

"Greetings, little one," she said kindly, gesturing for us to come out of the way of those working. "I am glad we meet again."

"I wanted to thank you for saving us," Tilda said in an awed voice. "You are so brave, and I hope that I can be as brave as you."

Bending, the elf looked into my sister's face. "What is your name?" she asked. Up close, she is even more beautiful than from far away. No wonder the dwarf fell in love with her.

"Tilda," she told her, and with another smile, the elf offered her hand.

"I am Tauriel, Captain of the Mirkwood Guard." She is important, then. One can see it on her, but she doesn't speak proudly, or hold herself above the others. I took it, feeling as if I would dirty her, for her hands were slim and cool, and unspeakably clean.

"I am Sigrid, Lady of the Lake," I told her, the title strange on my tongue. "Bard the Bowman, our new lord, is my father."

"I remember you, Sigrid. Fili took it into his head to protect you from harm." Her warm eyes met mine, and I felt embarrassed at her words.

"He was fighting to defend those who needed it," I managed at last. "It was no special favor."

"I would not be so sure."

Tilda was watching Tauriel with a kind of hero-worship in her round eyes. She took Tauriel's hand as I released it, and looked up at her. "May I touch your hair?" she asked, and Tauriel laughed, a merry sound like the ringing of bells.

"Of course." She bent, and pulled a great amount of it over her shoulder. Tilda rubbed her hand on the front of her pinafore, and then stroked a few strands, a smile coming to her face. "It is so soft- I had never seen hair the color of autumn leaves before."

"You know -" Tauriel regarded my sister with a secretive smile. "Someone else said the same thing to me. 'The color of autumn leaves'. It must be true."

"Who was it?" I asked. She was so kind that I did not feel so shy anymore.

"Kili," she replied, straightening, and giving Tilda's hand a squeeze. "But I must return now, or the king will think that we are becoming lazy. We will see each other again, I'm sure."

"I hope so," Tilda said, her eyes shining.

We have our own house, now. It has just a dirt floor, that I have a time of trying to keep clean and swept, but it's four strong walls and a thatched roof, and it is so nice to have a place for everything at last. Our new city will take a long time to build, so this is likely to be our home for years, as streets are being laid from stone, and great structures fashioned from strong Mirkwood timber. Aye, it will be truly great when it is finished. Such is the tenacity of life - you are burned to nothingness, and yet hope is raised from the ashes by the sweat and strength of many willing hands, and many hopeful hearts.


	19. Chapter 19

Today I've been so gloomy, and I don't know why. It's as if it were in defiance of my last hope-filled entry. Why, is that, I wonder? I awakened this morning, my mind in a heavy fog, the thoughts thronging there so terribly murky and unclear. Tilda asked if I had a headache, and I replied I supposed so, though I feel fine, only tired with my own thoughts. Maybe this is what growing up is about. Though I rather hope not. Da is often quiet in his own thoughts and is pondering his work, but in all that he never fails to put on a cheerful smile for our benefit. I ought to take a lesson from that, and I try, I really do. But today, I am really having trouble putting on a smiling face and I can't put my finger on why. A restlessness is stirring within me – like something I never saw before is suddenly looming plain as day before my face.

I feel badly because I think this means I am no longer content with my family. I know that were I to marry tomorrow, it would not solve my troubles. I would go from one home to the next, and other problems would face me there, most likely more than face me now. It is not that I am dreaming of anyone, anything really. Maybe I'm lying to myself. I should try to be more honest. I am feeling like it is time for me to move on, but I don't know how to make it happen, or if I should. It would seem that I shouldn't – women don't make things happen. I want to talk to Da, but he hasn't the time, and I would feel so terribly self-conscious. Besides, none of what I'm writing is even making sense, so what would I say? I need to sort it out, first.

My face is suddenly hot and I am torn between the feeling to slam this book shut and stop writing before I embarrass myself, and to keep writing until I come to some sort of conclusion. If someone put the question to me now if I had ever been in love, I would say no. Several months ago it would have been true. I don't really know the definition of "in love" or if it has to be a certain few things in order to properly count, but I don't feel honest now in saying I have never been in love. "In love" to me means hours spent dreaming instead of working, gifts exchanged in special secret times, beautiful visions of a future together in your head and a ringing in your ears as you hang on the other person's every word. I haven't done any of that (and I'm not sure I want to). But I have felt a swelling in my chest and an unexpected heat come to my face when a person has looked at me, or spoken to me, and I have the tremendous desire for him to think well of me, and to know that I want only the best for him, and to be able to stand by his side, and serve him.

This is a great secret. I don't want to write his name any more, because I remember Da telling me that if something is written down it is more likely to happen. I would be terribly afraid if it were to happen – his coming back – his talking to Da... I can't go on like this. I need to pay attention to my life now, here, and our work, and stop dwelling on the things I never thought of before. Maybe it will pass. Or at least I hope the folly of it will pass, and one day I can think, write, and maybe even talk about this coherently.

Having written the above, even though I'm sure it doesn't make much sense, I feel a bit better already. The sorting that can happen through my pencil is giving my tired mind a rest, and I can see my thoughts much more clearly – almost clear enough to write them. But I am afraid, once again. I don't want to commit my affections to a page in case I one day marry another (as I likely will) and feel myself somewhat of a traitor. I never ever want to cause trouble of that sort, and I wish I were the sort of person who could say they never felt affection for anyone until they married, or that the first person they ever liked they did, in fact, marry.

I have spent the day gathering fresh water for the workers from the River Running, which is near our building site. Before we would have to buy it from the water barge which would come every few days through the canals of the town. But now we have it every day. I had never tasted such cool clear water before this, and I have often thought how cold water tastes thinner than lukewarm water. I think it is that way with hearts and feelings. The blood may run quicker through a cold heart, with less pain. But the thick blood, heavy with emotion, is warmer and goes through with more difficulty. That may sound ridiculous, but I think it is so. Now I must decide whether or not it is worth the pain to allow a heart to be warm instead of cold.

It is not even worth this, I think, to let my heart warm for this person. It is not even possible, I am sure. We are so far away from each other now, and are not even of the same race. He probably does not even think of me now that they are gone, and that is fine. Perhaps it is better – no, it most certainly is. He is such an honorable person, with such great things to do in life, and such a bold way of seeing the world that someone such as me would taint him, slow him down, and be a hindrance instead of a help. This sort of thing is going to my head. It was right of me not to spend time dwelling on my future before, and I don't know what has changed now, that I suddenly find myself thinking of nothing else.


	20. Chapter 20

Such a deal of things have been happening it is hard to find the time to write to keep up with it all. I am now nineteen, and feel it is such an old age. Marriage has been forgotten in the rebuilding of our lives. Life seems to go in spurts of much work and little thought, and much thought and little work. Mostly the former, but still... Reading back over my last entry, I find I sound incredibly selfish. There are so many greater things in the world than the petty feelings of a girl of Esgaroth. Da always said we were great people, but I am sometimes struggling to raise my spirit above my downtrodden body.

If I could draw as Tilda can, I would put in the plans for the city. It has been drafted by Da and the leading men of our company, and promises to be very great someday. Elves have been sending aid nearly daily, both in materials, and in labor. I would not have thought such slender beautiful people could be so strong. Sometimes I can't help but think of what work a dwarf could get done if they were here. They seem to be nothing but strength, though their stature is small. For shame. I tell myself it is because I would like to think they are people of their word.

Bain looks like such a man now. He is as tall as Da, and looks more and more like him. He wears his hair long now, and tied back, and the work he does on the city is giving him strength and breadth. Tilda too, is growing tall is beginning to have the prettiness of an older girl than she is. She looks like Mam, that I know. I know that I do as well, and I see it on the tail ends of looks Da still gives us, but for the most part he seems happy, though the work is hard. I am sorry this is so short, but I haven't anything else to write. I will write again sometime when I am not so dull.


	21. Chapter 21

Now I feel like a dreadful ingrate. My last two entries have been but heavy-lidded ramblings of a selfish girl tempting Valar to change her fate. So now I feel guilty in recording with happiness something good that has happened - as if I were only happy when things I like are occurring. The company of Durin has returned, every one of them, and are aiding in the work of rebuilding here. Goodness knows there is enough of their own work going on in the halls of Erebor, but I heard Thorin telling Da that their kin from the Iron Hills have come and are at work there even now in the restoration.

It was Bain who came and told me. He was out in the timber yard, working with the others, and I was inside, preparing some ends of bread to take to Tilda and the other littler girls who were playing at the water's edge under the hot sun, when the door burst open and my brother gasped, "Sigrid, come at once. You'll never guess who is here!"

"What? Who?" I asked, banking the fire quickly and wiping my hands on my apron. It felt good to turn from the heat of the fire and feel the fresh air against my hot cheeks.

"The company of Thorin Oakenshield," he grinned. "They have come to help. Isn't it splendid?"

I was shocked. I won't deny how many times I have thought of this, but I had finally succeeded in driving it to the farthest corner of my mind, and focusing on the future again, not the past.

"They're here - now?" I managed, sounding utterly stupid, I'm sure. I was just so stunned.

"Aye, they're in the stone quarry with Da, talking right now!"

"Are they staying?" I asked breathlessly, hurrying to keep up with my brother's long strides as we rushed back toward the quarries.

"I suspect so. They said they were here to offer their aid, and then I ran at once to tell you!"

"Why?" I asked, trying to sound as unconcerned as possible.

Bain regarded me with a grin. "Because you missed them."

I should have denied it, but I didn't, as we slowed our pace, and caught our breath on the rise. A stiff wind had arisen and whipped pieces of hair free into Bain's face, my skirt flapping like a sail in the breezes, pressing against my legs. I clutched at it, and we began to descend into the pale powdery quarry, the ring of chisels and mallets filling the area and the sun gleaming off the newly-cut stone.

I saw them. Clad in their own clothing, unarmed, and peaceable, they stood in the bright sunlight, talking with Da and the stonemaster who has been heading the crew.

Thorin and Fili were the nearest in conversation, nodding, and turning to each other as Da showed them the plans, while the others stood about, bunched together like goats and laughing nosily, or wandering over the quarry and curiously watching the men at work. Bain called out.

"Da!" He waved wildly, and sprinted up, grinning and bowing to the dwarf lords. "It's a pleasure to see you again, masters."

Da smiled. "My son, Bain."  
"I remember," Thorin said, giving him a nod. "You've grown."

Bain smiled at this, and turned to me. "My sister, Sigrid."

"Hello, again," Thorin inclined his head, and Fili smiled. "Hello, lass. We meet again at last."

Da looked at me, and I swallowed, suddenly realizing that I hadn't even taken off my apron. What a fool I am. I probably looked like a beggar.

"Hello, Master dwarf. I mean, Prince -"

"Fili." He smiled. "Just Fili."

Thorin gave him a long studying look, but Da broke in."Sigrid, there is a great number of them."

"We hope we are no trouble," Thorin began.

"Not at all. More hands mean lighter work. Would you take them about the camp and see if anyone has room to put them up for the night? One or two in each croft."

I nodded, but stopped short as Thorin objected, "We can sleep outdoors well enough, if you could show us a plot where we wouldn't be in the way."

"No need, our people will happily give you shelter."

"No animosity remains?" Thorin looked out of the tops of his eyes at Da, his gaze cold and unreadable. "It was our people that brought the dragon's destruction on yours."

Da looked across the lake for a long moment, before placing a hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "No animosity remains."

My throat felt tight with happiness, and still does as I write. Just then Kili approached, with Bofur and the other dwarf that is fierce and taller than the rest.

"Hello, then!" he greeted. "I remember you!"

"Hello," Bain and I replied. "Good to see you again," I added, and he grinned.

"Quite a lot of work you've got for yourselves here." Kili waved a blunt hand around to indicate the general city under construction. "We'll be happy to help."

"Can dwarves work with wood and stone? I thought they only worked with iron," Bain said with curiosity. Kili looked affronted.

"Dwarves can work with anything."

"Though not where they're not wanted," the other dwarf growled, and I could feel Bain pull his graciousness out of his pocket.

"Of course you're wanted. In fact, I think we need you," he added quietly. "The city will rise so much quicker with more strong backs and skilled hands."

That is what the dwarf liked to hear, and Kili laughed. "You need our help? Well, then we're happy to offer it."

"The elves have been of great service to us as well -" I began, but too late remembered the unhappy relations that exist between elves and dwarves.

"You know what we say?" Kili dropped his voice so that only we could hear it, and growled in his language, "Ma ôhfûkizu kuthu khathuzh aslônî. Ni ma mahùlchùp agrîfumùn hi ya."

Bain's eyes were wide - was this a curse? I'm afraid I was a little worried as well, but the other dwarf (I remember now - he calls himself Dwalin) translated, "Rejoice not when an elf falls."

Bain looked relieved, and I smiled. But then Dwalin added, "But don't rush to pick him up either."

Kili roared with laughter and Thorin and Da looked up to see what the commotion was about. Just then, Tilda came running up, windblown, and breathless.

"You came!" she exclaimed, and without further ado, flung herself into Kili's arms. Laughing, he hugged her, and gave her a loud kiss on the forehead. "And you look well," she beamed. "Does your leg hurt at all?"

"Not a bit." Kili slapped his thigh to prove it. "Have you... seen her again?" he inquired, a bit hesitantly, casting a look toward his uncle and brother.

"She came about a week ago, with some others bringing timber down the river," I told him. "She did not stay, but said she would return."

Kili licked his lips quickly, and said, his eyes bright, "Thank you."

"Sigrid!" Da called. "You and Bain, go, and introduce the company around the camp. Then we can find out who is most useful where."

"I'm most useful about anywhere," Kili proclaimed, and Fili laughed, falling into stride with Bain and myself, and the others who were rounded up with a shout from Thorin.

The rest of the day we spent in auctioning off dwarves to our neighbors, and the last two, Balin and Dwalin, are staying with us. In spite of their dubious introduction, Bain rather likes Dwalin, I think, and has already exacted from him the promise of lessons with the axe. Balin is kind, and I think we shall get along excellently; at least Da has gotten over his initial anger at the lies he told to him when they were introduced. I must go, this light is probably keeping everyone awake. More tomorrow, perhaps.


	22. Chapter 22

The dwarves have been assigned to different labor crews. I have all their names now, and will write them here so I do not forget: Thorin, Fili, Kili, Oin, Gloin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Ori, Nori, Dwalin, and Balin. I have met all of them, and the only ones I can't seem to recall when I see them (for they've taken to calling out "Hello, Sigrid!" whenever I pass by bringing food, and I like to be able to call back with their names instead of just, "Hello!") are Dori, Ori, and Nori (I am always mixing up the three) Bifur, who only speaks Khuzdul, and Gloin, who I never really met, and keeps out of the way, it seems. I believe he is Oin's brother, and I don't know what he does, but he is on the timber-cutting crew. He is very handy with the axe, as is Dwalin and Fili, who are also on the timber crew.

Bombur and I have become quite good friends, as he helps me cook for the workers, and is quite good at it too. I am amazed at the things he can concoct from what we have, and I thought I had a lifetime of learning that sort of thing. Anyhow, he doesn't do a lot of talking, but then, I wouldn't really know what to say back.

Right now, I am sitting on a pile of cut timber - great long logs from the strong Mirkwood trees, this book open on my lap. I feel a little indolent, but the men are just getting back to work after the midday meal, and Bombur is busy collecting their bowls. Ori (I think - the one that always wears mittens) carved a good deal of them for us when they first arrived, and they have helped greatly, otherwise we would have reverted to our strategy from before of everyone bringing their own vessel. The sun is bright, but not too bright. The men, however, look hot again already, though some of them plunged into the lake before returning to work. I keep busy when they do that, for many of them take their clothing off, and that's something no one wants to see.

Tilda tells me that Kili has confided to her the love that he holds for Tauriel. I hope that he is not filling her head with nonsense (she told me that if he were not in love with Lady Tauriel she might be in love with him instead) but I am glad they get along so well. Bain seems to enjoy his company as well, for they are both light-hearted and youthful, though Kili is 77 years old, he says. That must not be much to a dwarf, but it is near the end of life for a man. Fili and I have not spoken since we met upon their arrival. He has been keeping busy, but every once in a while I can catch a glimpse of him working among the timber, or hear his shouts to his fellow laborers, and laughter. It is such a happy sound.

Tilda has just joined me and asked what I am writing about - I tell her that I am writing about the work the men are doing, and she says to say 'men and dwarves'. They are truly wondrous. Bain told me last night that there are contests running nearly everywhere, over who can cut the most wood the quickest, or haul the most stones, or clear the most soil. Tilda and some of the other children have been set to turning over the great iron kettles that are not being used and dragging them back and forth over the graded areas to smooth them for the builders. It is hard work for them, but it is heartwarming to see everyone joining in, even the wee ones. Right now I can see a little lad of no more than four, under the watchful eye of his mother, faithfully carrying handfuls of small stones to a pile at the edge of the quarrying site, keeping the pathway clear for the men to drag the sledges.

Bombur is calling to me, asking what should be done with the bowls now - I must go and show him that we take them to the edge of the water and clean them there. It is much easier now than hauling water to and fro, though I still do that for use in the house, from the river or lake, depending on which is needed. River for drinking and cooking, lake for bathing and cleaning. Though I have to wonder if he'll be able to do it. I have never seen anyone so round, and it is made even more pronounced by the fact that his head barely reaches my chin, and I am not tall.


	23. Chapter 23

This evening Fili came to see how Dwalin and Balin were treating us, as he put it, though I think it would be more like how we are treating them. Da and Bain had come in a little earlier from the building sites and were washing up when there was a knock on the door. Tilda was not in, as she had been told she could go with a few other children to the mouth of the river to swim and had still not returned, but we expected her any minute, because it was going to be time for supper soon.

Da opened the door, and I saw around him that it was Fili. He looked hot and worn from working all day, his tunic drenched and clinging to his back, his hair wilder than a lion's mane.

"Greetings, Bard," he smiled.

"Hello, Fili." Da clasped hands with him. "What can I do for you?"

"How are Dwalin and Balin behaving themselves?" he asked, peering around Da. "Have they finished yet?"

"Balin is still with the council, discussing some of the road plans, and Dwalin was talking to... Dori?" Da hazarded. Fili laughed.

"Likely. Or any of the others."

Da nodded gratefully. "I can't seem to keep them all straight."

"No matter, we are used to it by now."

Bain was staring at me as I listened to their conversation, so I returned to the water I had over the fire, which was now boiling merrily, and dropped the eggs in, turning over a sandglass that was a gift from the elves, and trying to look uninterested as I watched the sand sift through. But I could still hear their voices.

"Has Thorin spoken to you?" Fili said after a break in the discussions of work.

"No - why? Is something the matter?" Da pulled the door shut after him, and the rest of their conversation was lost.

"You're very keen, Lady of the Lake," Bain said, grinning, and coming across the room to peer into the pot where the eggs bobbed among the bubbling water. "Any particular reason?"

"I thought he would bring news of something important," I said. "When is Tilda coming, do you think?"

"When they've finished swimming, I suspect." He was still staring at me, and my face was getting hot. He pounced.

"Are you blushing, Sigrid?"

"No, I've been standing too long over the fire," I murmured, wiping my hands on my apron. "Don't be such a tease."

"I think you fancy dwarves," he whispered, and I snapped, "Don't be daft."

He lifted his hands innocently. "Aye, you do," he grinned. "Or you wouldn't bite my head off like that."

I gave in and chased him around the croft until I noticed the sand had run out in the glass and swung the kettle away from the fire, still laughing.

"Leave me be, or these will be ruined," I managed, fishing them carefully out with a spoon and setting them upon a cloth to dry.

"Sigrid likes dwarves," Bain whispered close to my ear. I smacked him smartly.

"Nay, not true."

"Not true?" His eyes were wide. "Why not?"

"You think I like that great lout Bombur?" I whispered. "Not upon your life."

"Ahhhh." He got a sage look upon his face. "Not dwarves. A dwarf."

"Don't talk so," I hissed. "You know it's not like that."

He obliged, but I am mortified that he thinks such things, when there is clearly no basis for it. Tilda came in shortly afterward, damp, happy, and eager for supper, and through the open door I saw Da bidding good night to Fili, who bowed and strode off.


	24. Chapter 24

The first stones were laid in the centre of what will be the great square today. It was marked with much festivity, and we cooked a great amount of food, and sent word to the elves of Mirkwood to come and celebrate with us. Though we are small in number, the dwarves added greatly to the merriment, and it seemed to me that the fact the elves did not know of the dwarves' presence here only made it funnier. They keep their distances.

The great barge swept up, bearing the prince of Mirkwood (he is the other elf that came to our house the night the orcs attacked, though I still have been able to gather no information as to why on earth they were there or how they came upon us in danger in such a timely way) and five or ten others. Tauriel also was among them, and it was the first time I have ever seen her clad in anything but the forest green of the guard. Tilda ran up to her at once and took her hand, giving her the wreath of wildflowers she had woven, and she looked beautiful. Her robe was a pale blue color, the color of the sky after a summer rain, and it seemed to me that Kili grew fidgety all at once for no particular reason.

Everyone, really, was decked out in their best. I had on my nicest skirt and a new stiffer shift of the lightest white I could bleach it in the hot summer sun. I have taken to not wearing a waist, as mine was damaged too badly in the fires and have not been able to bring myself to wear any of the stuff the elves sent. But my skirt has a broad waistband and I cover it with a leathern belt Bain gave me as a gift, and so I hope I looked a little un-ordinary. At least I wasn't wearing my signature apron. Not today. I made a dress for Tilda out of the elven stuff instead and she and Tauriel, hand in hand, look like great ladies from legends, their hair twined with flowers, dust of the lakeshore upon their feet.

Now I come to the bit I have really wanted to write about. I hardly know what to think, but I will set it down, and maybe going back over it in writing will help solidify it in my troubled brain. Oh, dear, that sounds as if I were displeased, which I'm not... I don't think - never mind. Here is what happened.

Night had fallen, but everyone was far from finished celebrating. I was in the middle of a conversation with several other of the women when I first noticed him. Fili, that is. He was standing a little off to the side, and caught my eye, gesturing with his head as if to call me away as soon as I could.

I was a little taken aback. It seemed improper in some way. But for some reason, I felt a swelling in my chest, and the picture flashed into my mind. It is alright to be improper for once, isn't it? That sounds very bad, but I was curious, so I excused myself politely as soon as the conversation moved beyond realms which immediately concerned me, and joined him in the shadows beyond the bonfires.

"You wished to speak to me?" I began, as he turned his steps toward the crofts, and I fell into step beside him. He is shorter than I am, but again, when I stand beside him I still feel small. Young, and inexperienced. Suddenly my elation was gone - why did I think I could do this sort of thing and not make a fool of myself? I do not know how to talk to men. I don't understand why he would want to talk to me. And alone. I tried not to look as disconcerted as I was.

"Yes. And -" He cleared his throat. "Well, I hope I am not unwelcome."

I didn't really know what to say to this (was it, or wasn't it?) so I took it at his word's worth. "Your aid is greatly appreciated. So, of course, you're not unwelcome."

"I meant my conversation." There was a long pause, and his voice came again, deep and giving me goosebumps. "I enjoy speaking with you."

"I enjoy... speaking with you," I managed at last. "I feel that you understand things I say."

Fili met my eyes. "Exactly. We are both firstborns that have had greatness unexpectedly thrust upon us. We feel a great sense of... duty, even though we sometimes rebel against our nature and resent the responsibility."

I was watching him with round eyes - it was as if my heart beat within a dwarf's chest.

"A future looms ahead of us that is uncertain, but more bright than that of our past, though the strong light glimmers upon the sweat and tears of races toiling to rebuild a life from ashes. I don't mean to say that any of it will be easy, but things are looking up."

I thought he was finished, and then my heart leapt as he added, "And that is what frightens me. I am not ready."

"You speak with my tongue, with my mind, and my heart," I whispered, hoping I was not too bold. "I - I keep a journal. No one... you haven't -"

The dwarf prince broke out in laughter that filled the night, filled my entire being as well from the top of my forehead to the tips of my fingers, from the pit of my stomach to the the scars that lashed my ankles.

"I would never. I did not even know. It would take our burglar to sneak such a thing, I imagine." He wiped his eyes, and oddly, I did not feel like laughing until he had finished. I tried to stop it, but soon I was laughing too, and we were both released from our tension together, like the evening tide.

When we settled at last, I reisited the call of shyness to capture my gaze once again. "I meant what I said," I told him, meeting his eye. "You speak with my heart."

"I know," he replied simply. "Which is why -" Breaking off, he looked away, and swallowed before continuing, "Which is why I should like to get to know you better."

Get to know you better. That is one of the phrases that father's warn daughters against. It struck terror into my heart when put to me by Alfrid, but in spite of how many times I (embarrassingly) have imagined the moment when a man were to tell me that he would like to know me better, I feel reticent. It is not that I do not like him, for Valar knows I think the world of him. I am just worried - worried for the future, fearing that this is not what I am supposed to be doing. What I am, I do not know, beyond this.

"My first duty is to my family," I said, trying to voice my thoughts, and Fili looked a little sobered.

"I understand. But they will not always be your -"

I must have looked shocked. I felt shocked.

"That's not what I meant. Mahal knows I hate the idea of Kili leaving me for an elf. And were she a dwarrow-maid, I should not feel any more eager."

"So you merely seek solace now that your brother is taken from you?" I said, trying to sound kind, but feeling a little offended in spite of myself.

"No. I know that my future lies ahead. With a wife."

Wife. I felt cold.

"Wh-" My breath caught between my lips, and I tried again. "What do you mean?"

"I told Thorin about you even before we reached the mountain. He does not like your father, but favors the idea of an alliance between our peoples."

I rushed to stop him before my face felt as if it were on fire. "Fili - Fili... You should be talking to Da about this." I shook my head. "It's not my place to hear your thoughts until he has. Talk to him."

"I already have," he said huskily. "All I am asking is for permission to see you once more, and for you to give me your decision. Your father said he will make no promise of your hand to one you do not desire to wed."

Thorin Oakenshield and Da have been talking. If before I felt as if all the blood in my body had gone to my head, it now drained away, and I felt dizzy.

"Thank you," I managed at last. "I am flattered by your interest. I'll - I'll think on your words."

I have been ever since. He bade me a polite goodnight and offered to walk me back to the festivities. But I declined, returning instead to the croft, and writing this. Before he left, he took my hand, and bestowed upon it a kiss, he cold beads of his mustache braids pressing against the top my fingers. His beard was rough brushing my skin, but his lips were warm, and I can almost feel the heat there still. I am torn. To be the wife of the future king of the dwarves... It would be a great, great honor. And yet, I do not feel, at this point, as if I could ever be good enough for him.


	25. Chapter 25

Isnt it funny that one can feel younger at nineteen than at sixteen? It's as if just yesterday I was despairing, thinking that my years of youth were almost expended without very much to show for it, and now I feel with the pain of a cold wind in one's face the reality of my years. I am young. I know nothing of the world, and the person with whom I feel I would be content to spend the rest of my life with is 82 years upon Middle Earth, and I am not even twenty.

I think Da knows that Fili spoke to me, for he has been watching me closely, and it is that fact that makes me reluctant to seem as if I were thinking on it. I would hate to be so transparent. If there is one thing that I have learned from the elves, it is the beauty of hiding your pain behind a smile, and the dignity in hiding your turmoil in labor. I have done both those things all my life, but now I am beginning to see the grace in it.

Bain and Tilda are oblivious, for which I am glad. It would be far too much to have them talking to me about it as well. But it finally got to be too much for me to keep in my head, and I escaped. Telling Tilda that I was going to talk to Da for a moment, and leaving Bain to his work of rethatching the croft's roof in the hot sun, I nearly ran to the worksite, my eyes searching for Da. I could not find him, neither in the shade of the council, nor the quarry, where everyone stopped and stared, nor the timber yard, nor any of the building sites where he usally was at work alongside the rest of the men of Esgaroth. I stopped short above the area which is going to be the kilns, to be used for baking brick, though now it is just a great basin neaer the river being leveled for the building of the firing mounds.

There were only a few people there - one of whom was a short, strong figure bent in the sun, his great mane of blond hair falling about his bare sholders as he worked, his back to me. I turned, resisting the instinct to stay and watch, for something in the sight magnetized me in a way I am ashamed to relate. Sweat is distateful, I have always thought, and looking upon a man - or dwarf- without proper clothing was not something I have been brought up to do. But of course, while I was fighitng with these thoughts, he turned and saw me.

"Sigrid!" he greeted, and I hope no one heard. It sounded so familiar, and it embarrased me. As if we talked to each other every day in this way.

"I - I was just looking for Da," I stammered, turning on the rise, and beginning to hurry away. "Tis nothing... don't mind me."

"Wait -" he called, and I stopped short, keeping my back to him. He was not dressed; surely he noticed the discomfort that would cause...

"Is everything alright?" I could hear his harsh breathing as he climbed the steep incline to be near where I stood.

"Aye," I retuenrd. "I just wanted to ask him something."

It sounded pathetic, but it was true. There was a thump as Fili tossed down the implement he had been using to grade the hard clay , and then he asked. "Why don't you turn?"

"I - you're not -"

"Of course. Don't turn then. There are usually no women at the work sites, and I..." he trailed off. I shook my head.

"Don't - let it trouble you. Just, have you seen him?"

"Not this day. May I -" He came a little closer. "You don't have to turn around, just listen." I nodded.

"May I ask you if you have thought on my words?"

"Aye." My voice was small.

"Is that why you were going to find your father?"

I am amazed at his ability to know my thoughts. It is pleasing and disturbing at the same time. Again, I hate to be so transparent.

"Aye," I whispered. "But only because I do not know what I think."

"Then tell him that."

"I will."

"He loves you. He would not give you to one he does not know will also love you with the same strength, with his every breath, to his dying day."

I nodded. "Then I will do whatever he wishes me to do."

I could hear Fili's breath come out in a great sigh. "You will not regret it."

I felt as if I could hardly see as I rushed down the rise, and ran blindly, intending to go into the woods for some time to think. I wish that Da were about. Someone to wrap me in a warm embrace and let me cry as I wished. It crossed my mind that he had gone up the river again, and as silly as it was, the thought of him being so far away at this precise moment brought the tears flowing down my face as I stopped against the base of a tree, pulling my knees up to my chest and laying my head upon my arms as I cried like a baby.

After some moments I heard a scuffling in the dry leaves and lifted my wet face to see a short figure making it's way toward me - was I fated to run into dwarves whereever I went this day? It was Balin, and he had clearly seen me. Hurrying over the uneven ground, he bent and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Are you alright, lass?"

I nodded, wiping my face on my sleeve. "Yes, thank you."

"Tears in the eyes proclaim words to be lies," he quoted, kindly taking a seat next to me, and settling his back against the bark. "Tell an old soul?"

I shook my head. "It is nothing, I am just -" my voice caught. "I am just trying to think and not having good success."

Balin chuckled, and said, his eyes meeting mine, "I thought you seemed not yourself last night. Nor the night before. Not since the centre-stone celebration, in fact." The dwarf was shrewd. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

"I was looking for Da," I told him. "I wanted to - to talk... to cry..." I broke off, the sob rising in my chest again, my eyes blurring. "I don't know where he is." I was shaking, I could feel it, and the kind old dwarf wrapped his short arms around me, pulling me into an embrace.

"Cry, lassie," he murmured, as I released tears into his white beard. "It will do you good."

"I don't even know why I am crying," I managed at last. "It's not as if something bad has happened."

Balin just hushed me and began humming deep in his throat, a soothing song that quieted my nerves, and stopped the flow of my tears. He was warm, and kind, and we have often talked by the hearth of nights after everyone else has gone to bed. He told me stories of their quest, of the dragon's lair, of the elven halls and of the place the halfling came from, and many many other things. He is wise, not only in the ways of the world, but in the ways of the heart. Da told him more about Mam than I have ever heard him speak to anyone, even me. There is something about him that breaks loose all bounds of proper reticence, and truth comes pouring forth like a great hot spring. I suspect it is because he know most everything already.

"Da and Thorin are talking of me marrying the prince," I whispered at last, and Balin's broad hand came to rest on my head in a comforting gesture. He traced the small braid that followed my hairline and then was lost in the rest of my hair coiled at the back of my neck.

"And does this please you?" he asked, and I heaved a sigh.

"I do not know."

"Yes, you do, lass. You just don't know how to speak of it."

I sat up, and wiped my face again, pushing wisps of errant hair out of my face, and giving another sigh.

"He - I feel so silly," I murmured.

"No need," Balin said. "I am not here to examine you, just to listen to you."

I nodded. "We are so different, and yet so much the same. He knows my heart as if it were written upon my breast in plain runes, and yet - we are so different. I do not understand dwarven ways, and I do not know anything about... men..." I trailed off, my face growing flushed. "I am not his equal."

"That is a lot of foolishness, " Balin said mildly. "Why would you be expected to know anything of men, or dwarves? It would not suit you. You are young. But you are strong."

"I hear that alot. Everyone seems to think I am."

"And you do not?"

I shook my head. "Sometimes I don't feel it."

There was a long silence, and at last Balin asked in a gentle tone, "Do you know what love is?"

I met his gaze. It was keen and held the slightest of eagerness.

"I love Da. I love Bain and Tilda, and I love -"

"Go on."

"I love Fili," I whispered, hiding my face. "Valar help me, I don't know what to do."

Balin's quiet chuckle filled the forest. "Do you hear yourself, lass? You are distraught because you love him and you think you will have to marry him."

I did not lift my head. "I am not good enough..."

"You think well of him." I could imagine the regard that would fill Balin's eyes, the same as when he spoke of his king, or of his homeland. "What makes you think well of him? You do not know him."

"I know. But in the short amount of time in which we have even been in a room together, in a group of other people, and a few times, just between us, i have seen the great heart that he has. His sense of nobility is higher than that of any other being, and yet he is not proud. He will give anything and everything for other people, and has no thought for the consequences of danger if he is protecting someone he cares for."

"In your words, he has no flaws," Balin chuckled. "Believe me, lass, he has his flaws."

"I woudn't know." I blushed. "I rather think he doesn't. And I am keenly aware of mine, so that makes me think that he would not think of me as he does if he knew."

"Knew what?"

I shrugged. "Knew me for who I am."

"I think we all do, Sigrid," Balin said gently. "You are the lady of your people, the leader of your family, and the brave heart that inspires us all as we work."

I stared at him in surprise. "Y-you mean that?"

He nodded. "You are the bridge between those who are laboring for their future and those who know the events of the past. Your kindness and innocence only add to your charm. And you are a charming lass." He patted my cheek, and I laughed.

"I thank you. I don't know if I agree, but -"

"Hush, keep your praise. You deserve it." He got to his feet, and offered me his hand, pulling me up. "Shall we return?"

I nodded, and with a sudden urge, kissed him upon the forehead. He smiled.

"I am happy for you."

And I merely nodded. I must stop now, but I will finish tomorrow, I promise. I am going to find Da.


	26. Chapter 26

Da returned late that afternoon. I was waiting for him on the rocks by the river, and sighted his barge while he was yet afar off. Someone else was with him - as they drew closer I realized it was Kili, and smiled. He must have talked Da into bringing him along in the hopes that he could see Lady Tauriel. He began to wave as soon as he saw me.

"The elves send their warmest regards to the race of men!" he called. "No so to the dwarves!" I laughed, and picked my way down the rocks as Da tied up the barge at the small pier we have constructed, and clambered to land.

"Sigrid," he greeted, hugging me and pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Is all well?"

"Aye, Da," I told him. "I just wanted to come and see you land."

"How are the workers faring? It is hotter than I ever remember it being." He drew a hand over his damp brow as he spoke. "It is a welcome relief from the cold of winter, though."

Thanking Da, Kili hurried away, and left us together. Da's smiling expression vanished as the dwarf went, and standing face to face, he looked into my eyes.

"Is this about what I think it is?"

I nodded, and he gave a sigh, running a hand over his mouth. "I do not want to make a decision that will make you unhappy. I am worried this will be too great a change for you. To leave us, and become the lady of another people."

I watched the flowing of the river behind him, and I said at last, "I trust that you would not have entertained this proposition if it were not alright with you."

"I don't like the idea of you're going off at all, but I know it must occur. And I think well of Fili, and Thorin, now, though not as much as I should like." His thumb caressed the top of my hand. "Has he spoken to you?"  
I nodded.

"I hope he didn't shock you," Da murmured, and I shook my head.

"He was kind, and not too pressing."

"You would be happy with him?" Da's eyes searched mine, and the color rose to my face.

"I think so," I murmured at last, looking away, and without another word, Da drew me into an embrace that was so tight it almost hurt.

"My dear girl," he whispered into my hair. "My dear, dear girl..."

We stood thus for a long moment, and at last he pulled away, wiping the tears from my cheek. "Thorin will be awaiting an answer. In their culture it is often a short period of decision, but I told him we would not rush."

A strange feeling rose in my chest. "Nay, it is no rush. If it is to be done, we must do it soon," I told him.

And thus, I am betrothed. It is so strange to write those words. Thorin and Fili and Kili came to our croft this evening, and spoke at great length with Da, while I sat with Tilda and Bain in the background, Balin near at hand, smiling at me periodically, and Dwalin whittling in the corner as if he were deaf to the happenings around him.

Bain had regarded me with shock when, in response to his question as to why the heirs of Durin were coming to our house, I said, "Because Da and Thorin are arranging a marriage between me and the elder prince."

I felt as if I were talking about someone else, not myself, not Sigrid, daughter of Bard. Such things do not happen to me. But they are. Tilda's mouth was agape.

"You are going to be married?" she exclaimed, and I had to tell her to lower her voice, before smiling and admitting, "Aye, so I think."

"Do you think you will like it?" Bain asked in my ear his eyes round. "I mean, do you like him?Will he be good to you?"

I hesitated, then nodded. "I think very, very highly of him."

Tilda took my hand, and did not say another word for a long time, and so we turned our attention to the dwarves and Da.

Their conversation was terse, without emotion, and Kili shifted from foot to foot, regarding his brother with his dark eyes as Fili stated his intentions and gave his word to protect my honor. Thorin looked uneasy until the very last moment when he and Da clasped hands on it, and then I saw a rare thing - his smile, as he regarded his nephew and gave him a rough embrace. Fili's eyes caught mine over his uncle's shoulder, and Da gestured for me to join them.

Standing on shaking legs, I crossed the room and stood by Da's side, his arm about my shoulders. Everyone was watching me, the great strong dwarves and my brother and sister. Da turned to look at my face.

"Sigrid," he said, guarding the emotion out of his voice. "You have heard the alliance that has been made this night."

Woodenly, I nodded. I could not think of what to say, and a simple, "Aye," hung in the corners like an awkward guest, unwelcome and uncomfortable.

"And it is pleasing to you, and you will accept this as your future, to be the lady and future queen of Fili, heir of Durin?" Da's voice sounded like it came from someone else, which is perhaps the only reason I was able to say in a firm voice:

"It is. And I will."

Thorin took one of his nephew's hands in his, and Da did the same with mine, and together, they joined us, Fili's hand closing around mine and covereing it with warmth though I am sure mine were terribly cold and repelling.

Fili met my eyes, and said in a low voice, "I will love you."

I did not know what I was supposed to say, but I knew everyone was watching me. So I murmured, "And I will love you," my face scarlet, and Fili pressed my hand to his mouth once again while I stood, limp-armed before everyone.

Thorin congratualted Da, and Da did the same for Thorin, and Kili wrapped his brother in his embrace. Tilda came rushing at me from the corner, and buried her face in my stomach, crying uncontrollably.

"Don't leave, Sigrid," she pleaded through her tears. "Don't leave." A lump rose in my throat as Fili turned to see what the commotion was.

"Hush, now," Da said, coming over, and extricating me from Tilda's arms. "It is alright, she is not leaving yet."

"Don't leave, ever," she sobbed, and I smiled at Da through my own tears as I knelt before her and drew her into my arms.

"Hush, darling," I murmured to her. "Hush now. I love you more than you'll ever know, and I won't go for a while yet. And when I do -" I swallowed painfully. "I will think of you every day."

Tilda continued to cry quietly, and Bain came up without a word, and wrapped his arms around both of us.

"I'm happy for you, Sigrid," he murmured in my ear, and I smiled at him.

"I love you, Bain," whispered. He nodded, and hurried over to Da and Thorin, where were still talking in low voices. Tilda removed her face from me, and sniffled loudly, looking at Fili as if he were solely responsibly for her unhappiness. Kili was suddenly at her side, and grabbed her by the hands, pulling her back toward the hearth, and sitting her there. Taking a seat beside her, he proceeded to whisper in her ear for a long while, and whenever he had finished, she looked a good deal more comforted. I don't know what it was that he said, but then he took her by the hand and led her over to Fili, who regarded her with hesitant eyes.

"Tilda, tell Fili what I told you."

"Kili told me that you are in love with her, and that I am going to have to share from now on," she whispered, and my heart gave a lurch.

"That's right," Kili encouraged, as if she were three, and not eleven. "But tell him what you said to me."

"If you make sure she is as happy with you as she is with us, then I won't be so upset," she whispered, and Kili grinned at his brother.

"She is a smart lass," he said.

Fili met Tilda's eyes. "I promise, I will do whatever is in my ability to make her happy in the halls of my fathers. And you are always welcome to come and visit any time you wish. I see her beauty in you, and what could be better than to have more of that?" He grinned as well, and Tilda was almost completely consoled.

Bain gave Tilda a quick hug, and then asked Fili, "May I have a word?" The two went outside, and did not come back for some time. I wonder what they spoke of. I know my brother is protective of me, and so I suspect it was something to the same effect (though with better control) of Tilda's concerns. Da told me, after everyone had left, to be ready to come with him when the sun rose, and we would walk the edge of the lake together, as he wanted to talk to me. The dwarves were leaving on the morrow to return to the Lonely Mountain and prepare their kin for the ceremony and celebration which would take place at the new moon. It seems so soon. I am shaking a little as I write this.

But Da told me just before I retired to bed, "You have faced many a harder thing with a brave face. Go now, into this new life, and find what happiness you can. Valar knows I wish all the happiness in the world upon you, my girl." I am crying again now. But I am not unhappy.


	27. Chapter 27

I feel as if I were an entirely different person than I was before. In many ways, I am just the same, but Da told me a number of things that make me think of the world in a whole different light. It is rather embarrasing, really.

There is such an amount to be organized before we go away to Erebor, so that work can continue while we are gone. Anyone who wishes is to travel with us to celebrate the alliance between our peoples, but that does not mean some won't choose to stay behind and continue our work.

It just struck me as I write this; I will not be here to see Esgaroth rise from the dust, as Da and Bain and Tilda will. I will be somewhere, deep within the mountain, with dwarves... I am trying to be brave, but I know I should save the bravery for when I really need it. It sounds as if I will.

Walking along the shore of the lake, Da at last stopped us near the rocks at the mouth of the river, and we sat together, almost wordlessly. At last, he said, "I hope that I have not made a promise I will regret."

"I don't think so, Da."

"You think well of him, then?"

I nodded. "I do."  
"Then I am happy." He heaved a great sigh, and began, "It is not going to be easy, giving you up. But we will ford that river when we reach it, and I pray Valar I will be strong." He smiled. "The danger of loving daughters too dearly. One day you have to watch as another takes them to love. He will love you," Da nodded. "That I know. But it will be a change. Marriage brings with it a new knowledge which I have kept from you, until now."

I blushed. I knew this was coming. I just did not expect it so soon. As when Da explained to me the facts of being a woman and no longer a little girl, he shifted and said in a shaking voice, "Your mother should have been the one to tell you these things. But I will make it- I will try not to frighten you with it." He ran a hand through his hair, and we both watched the rushing river in silence.

"It has been years since I told you that many things you will come to know on your own, simply through living life and drawing conclusions. Now, I must ask you -" His gaze grew shadowy, and he looked about as if expecting eavesdroppers. "How much do you know?"

I could barely speak, I was so embarrassed, but I managed, "I - I know that women are different from men - in their bodies... and that women bleed with the cycles of the moon because -" I swallowed. "I - I have seen animals give birth, and I suspect what I witnessed once was a conception, because - " I broke off and covered my face. "I don't want to speak of it."

Da's eyes filled with kindness. "Very well. Then just listen, and I will tell you of the union of two souls, when they are matched in love and unity. It may embarrass you now, but I know that loving your mother gave my life a purpose at last beyond myself, and she was my second self to nurture and cherish, and eventually, to bear chilren to treasure and rear... together."

I always knew that it was a great blow to Da to lose Mam, but now I saw it in a much keener light. His other half. His second self, was lost, and left him with no purpose in life, and three babes to remind him daily of her absence where she had always thought to be, where she had promised to be...

"I'm listening," I told him, and Da told me, very gently, but rather specifically, what I should expect upon the first night I would share with my husband.

My face burned and I felt as if I wanted to melt into the ground as rain does upon soft soil, but when he had finished, he gave me a hug, and said, with a little squeeze, "Are you alright?" I nodded, and he sighed into my hair.

"I have probably done a very poor job preparing you for your future life. But you have a quick mind and a willing heart, and I do not doubt that you will find your own way in time."

I hope he is right, though now the picture before my eyes is of a trackeless forest, wandering in fruitless circles, and being watched by a thousand nameless eyes as I stumble, and then fall time and again. My way is lost - but before me there is a figure clad in light, with golden hair and golden skin, and smiling eyes... Maybe my rest will be peaceful after all.

It has been three weeks since the betrothal, and my last entry, and we are now journeying to the mountains with a large company of our people. Da, and Bain, and Tilda are coming, of course, and a great amount of the others as well. I am truly surprised at how much goodwill is among them. I can hardly pass a single person but they will call out:

"Lady Sigrid! You have my best wishes for the marriage!", and "May Valar bless your union!" and "You will be a worthly lady to your lord," and "Our congratulations!"

It was a little dizzying at first, but I love to smile and thank them, and it is such a joy to see the good hearts that our people have, and the dwarves as well. A large number of them, distant relations of Thorin from the Iron Hills, have come as an escort, and it is truly stunning to see the sorts of clothing and hairstlyes (and beard-styles) that they sport. And this is not even for a festive occasion.

The elves, of course, will not be participating in any way, for though they harbor good relations with the race of men, an elf would not be found at a dwarven celebration if their life depended on it. I only know this because I heard Tilda ask Kili before they departed if Tauriel would be there. He told her as much, and promised to be her partner in the dancing. She has talked of nearly nothing else since.

The roads are growing steep and mountainous, and before us each day we can see plainly our destination. Great walls of carven stone adorn the entry to Erebor, and though destruction is still plain int he outlying areas, I hear that within restoration is nearly complete. Not so with Esgaroth, I am afraid.

It was a little (a lot) emotional leaving our little croft, taking a last look upon the lake where I grew up, and which was my only home until the dragon destroyed it. I see now what a great resilience the destruction has wrought upon my heart, otherwise I should not have been able to leave at all, I think. Da seemed to realize this, and promised that I could return someday for the blessing ceremony of the completed city. I think he meant this to cheer me, but I only sobbed the more because I will miss the great raising of the buildings and the work that will go into making our city noteable upon the histories of Middle Earth.

Anyhow, I am trying to be brave, and am finding myself eager at last. Eager to see Fili's face - familiar among the masses of dwarves that all look the same to me - and to be presented as the lady of my new people. I wonder if they will accept me, or if they will merely tolerate me, as a foreigner who consorts with their prince, and future king. I should so like to be a worthy consort to him, and hate to think that there will be ill-feelings running to undermine our love.

I speak of love, and yet do not know if that is the proper name for it at all. I am sure I will come to understand as time goes on, but for now, I call it a  _very deep regard._ He is so strange to me, and yet I know that his heart is good, and I am eager and nervous at the same time at getting to know him better.

Again, as I write, I realize that I will know him, and he will know me, even more closely than my family has in the past. I am leaving those who have loved me for nearly twenty years, and binding myself to a complete stranger, who will know me more intimately, care for me more closely, and think of me more often than even my family does. What strange things the world sends our way. Everyone goes through this, I suppose. Again, I wish I could talk to Mam about her thoughts and feelings when she knew she was going to marry Da. I suppose she might say they were violently in love, and could hardly wait to be bonded, but it is not the same for me.  _Very deep regard_. And I can't help but feel quite, quite nervous about the whole thing.

I must go, the morning sun is growing stronger, though the cold wind is blowing and the leaves have fallen from the trees, and I hear the horn that is signalling the time to pack up our camp, and prepare to move on for the day. More soon, I hope.


	28. Chapter 28

Erebor. We are here. It would be impossible to describe the greatness of the place or the kindness of its inhabitants. A flock of kind-hearted dwarrow-maids have taken me under their wing and though they speak the common tongue well enough, a good deal of their conversation is in Khuzdul and keeps me guessing from their laughs and gestures as to what they could possibly be talking about. And yes, the rumors are true, they do have beards. Some of the younger ones have lighter hair along the sides of their cheeks, like sideburns, but the elder ones have better beards than Kili (I wouldn't ever say that, though) and they are braided in the most elaborate feminine way. It was a little disconcerting at first, but I think I shall grow used to it. They have kind eyes, and some of them can be beautiful in their own way. I can't help but wonder what on earth Fili must think of my appearance, then, if this is their example of good looks. It's a wonder he looks on me at all.

I have not seen Fili since we have arrived, nor Thorin, nor Kili, nor anyone I know aside from Oin, whom I encountered by accident, and who could not hear a word I said anyway. It seems it is tradition for them to keep a lord and his lady out of each other's sight until the ceremony itself, and I find that strange, but easy enough to accomodate. Indeed, I should not know what to say to him should we meet.

My rooms are bigger than our entire house upon Laketown, the house of the Master, and the house of Ginna put together, and I hardly know what to do in such a space. The ceiling is high, and of course everything is of carven stone. However, the greatest portion of the ceiling over the great bed is coated in polished brass, so if one were to lay upon the bed and look up, one could see, full length, what one looks like.

There is another glass that is tall as well, by a dressing-table of sorts. I have never seen myself from head to toe before, and I find it most wonderful. I must seem as vain as an heiress, but I find it fascinating to be able to see more than just my face at one time. I seem to be tall, but that is perhaps because I am not used to looking at my proportions, and because all the others around me are so short. Da and Bain and Tilda have been taken to separate apartments, and I have not seen them since my arrival. I must admit, I cried myself to sleep on my first night here (last night). It is the first night I have slept by myself in a bed in my entire life. Tilda was not there beside me, with her soft breathing, and her inert hand upon my pillow, her hair tickling my face if I cuddled close, and her feet tangling with mine beneath the quilts. I hope the dear girl is not taking my absence too hard. Hopefully Bain and Da can comfort her.

A good many gowns have been made for me since word reached the mountain of my coming. Apparently each prince has a color of their own (Thorin's is blue, for instance) and it marks nearly every garment they own. That is not to say that they can only wear that color or else be unrecognizable in their status, for there are a good many other things as well that contribute to display standing here. Everything has carvings and patterns that tell tales, from belt buckles, to boot covers, to beads and braids, and of course every doorway and each chair holds great lines of runes which I have no idea what they mean. Anyhow, it seems that Fili's color is a deep brown-hued maroon, and as such, a great deal of my new clothing is that color. Also, gold and blue, which are the colors of royalty. But that gown I am not to wear until the actual ceremony. It was tried on my once to see if it fit, and there was a great deal of alteration to be done (how would dwarrow-maids know how to sew garments for a human girl?) but it was nonetheless beatiful, even if it were too short and broad nearly everywhere.

The dress I am clad in now is a marvel - I have never worn anything so fine, and the dwarrow-maids seem to think it so funny that I am awed by these things. Perhaps they do not understand the poverty that has faced me all my life. Though they have been in exile as well, their culture demands that they keep up appearances of greatness. The bodice is stiff and laced with a heavy gold cord, and above it shows the gathers of my shift. I am not buxom like the dwarrow-maids, so there is not much to see, but it leaves the top of my chest free, at least, so I can breathe, for the lacing is very tight. The skirt that falls beneath the bodice is heavy and of a russet color that swishes against the floor when I walk, and the sleeves hang free from the shoulders, revealing my shift again, which is narrower, and embroidered with gold. I feel like a queen, and don't quite know what to think of this. It almost feels wrong, for some reason. My hair is much like I always wear it - I finally convinced a dark-bearded woman to leave it be for now, but instead of the plain braid that I wore along the side of my head, it is plaited into a flat, four-pieced braid that looks like the ones Fili wears in his hair. I blushed when I noticed the connection, and they seemed to think it very funny.

My head filled with the stuff Da had told me along the river after my engagement, I got up the courage to look at myself without a scrap of clothing on before the mirror this morning. Dwarf women are so different from me, even fully clothed. It was early, before any of the other maids had come in to help me dress (for I know nothing of the intricate lacings and proper layering of this stuff) and I tried not to linger too long, lest one of them come in and see me in such a state.

I do not consider myself tall, but as I said before, I suddenly seem so. My arms are strong, and much thinner than any of the dwarven women's. My hands are a picture, all red and chafed from working, but I don't suppose there is any remedy for that. I don't think I could bear to sit so still that nary a vein showed itself through the skin. My bosom seems small, but what do I know. My trunk also, is narrow, and only widens slighly at my hips. My legs are strong, but marked beneath the knee with the scars of burns, and the scrapes of briars and the other stuff I have gotten myself into over the years. My feet seem long, but that is because my ankles are so thin. No, I am nearly the opposite of the thick-set curving dwarrow-maids. I wonder what Fili could have seen in me that pleased him. I hope I shall not be a disappointment.

Goodness, that was awkward to write about, I am really rambling now. I should go, I was promised a tour of some of the great halls of the mountain today by Balin (it was so good to see a familiar face, and he praised my garmenty, saying I looked 'like a proper dwarrow lady') and I am looking forward to it. More later, perhaps, or tomorrow.


	29. Chapter 29

Only one more day. It seems to have crept up upon me so quickly. There have been a flurry of people in and out, doing all manner of things to me, and hardly allowing me to lift a finger. I wonder if this is typical of a bride, or of a lady of the people, or a combination of the two. If I could work my way, I would rather be left alone. That sounds terrible, I know, but I can hardly think, and the great day is tomorrow.

I have seen Da and Tilda at last (Bain has been kept busy exploring with Kili and engaging in mock fights with some of the other dwarves, Dwalin's teaching apparently having paid off. He is apparently quite the novelty here, a tall warrior of the race of men. I hope he is enjoying himself.) Tilda exclaimed over my gown and told me of the dress she is to wear. She was wearing the funniest cap that she said Kili gave to her, with great long tails of fabric that hung before the ears and ended in beaded tassels, with a crest in the back that looks like a bantam rooster. I had a sneaking suspicion that it was a joke at first, but since then I have seen other dwarrow-children with more fantastic headgear, and so I am glad that I did not say anything.

It was so good to see Da - his face was so welcome to me after a sea of strangers. He is so handsome, I think. His eyes are dark and smiling, and he looks so wise and kind and strong, his head held high, towering above the dwarves that fill this place. His clothing was much unchanged, and it made my chest ache a little to see that some things have not been made to look different here.

"Sigrid," he greeted, drawing me into his arms, and hugging me tight. "You look beautiful."

"Not so beautiful as you," I murmured back, and he smiled.

"So many unfamiliar faces. You are a sight for sore eyes."  
I nodded. "That's what I mean."

"These clothes..." He trailed off and looked approvingly at me. "They suit you."

I blushed. "Do you think so? I feel so silly sometimes."

"Well, you don't look silly. I'm sure you know what I am going to say." I nodded, and he whispered in my ear, "I wish your mother could see you."

"I think she can," I whispered back, and he nodded.

"You are right."

He could not linger long, but was hurried off to a meeting with Thorin and the other dwarf lords that must take place before the ceremony. Da kissed me, promising to see me tomorrow.

"I love you," he managed before he left. This was the last time I shall see him as his own. The next time we meet I shall belong to another.

Today, in a rare moment of quiet, I was able to read back over the entirety of this journal, and I realized what a silly creature I can be sometimes. It was embarrassing in a way, and yet pleasing to see the stretch of my life since my fifteenth year, up until now. And it was so strange to read when I first began to write about the dwarves and Fili, as if it were nothing, not knowing it would prove to be one of the most important things that happened to me.

Tomorrow there will be so many firsts, just as today there are so many lasts. Tonight will be my last night to be spent as a maid. I am terrified, to be honest. I am sure to disappoint, do do something wrong. But I can only pray that love will be given to me in great amounts to guide my actions as I bestow my entire body on my husband. That is the only way I can think of this without trembling.

It is still the same day- night, rather, and I cannot sleep, so I have gotten out my journal to write for a bit more. I feel so alone. My room is so quiet, not a sound can be heard from the great soaring halls without, and my own breathing is the only thing to keep me company. I have lived my entire life in one room with my family before this, so it is difficult.

I am staring up at the brass polishing above my bed, and can see myself in its reflection. I am lying on my back with my knees bent, my feet sunk deep into the great bed. My shift is white against the deep color of the coverlet, and my hair is a pool of dark against the pillows. Tomorrow night I shall fear to look up at all.

I am going to endeavor not to think on it. It is silly, I know, but I feel that I should be preparing myself with something other than fear. Love. The love that I know I shall come to feel for him, nay, that I already do, though I hardly know him. It is difficult to explain, but though I have recorded his good qualities time and time again, it is not that which makes me love him. It is something else - maybe the fact that in our very first conversation he admitted to me that he does not always know the answers to the things in this world. Maybe it is his care and love for those who are hurting. Maybe it is the way he laughs at things which most people would pass right over.

I feel glowing now. He is mine. The great, mysterious, and yet kind dwarf that will one day be king of this place will belong to me as husband, as I will belong to him as wife. We will know each other more deeply than even our own families have known us, and will love as intimately as the closest two hearts and two bodies can possibly be. Our souls will be forever bonded by this union, to be broken not even in death. I am told that dwarves only love once, and it is a tremendous honor to be the one upon whom love is conferred. Again, I don't feel that I deserve it. But I will try my hardest.

I wonder if Fili is lying awake right now as well. I can try to imagine him - his limbs and strong back would be hard beneath the softer clothing of sleep, and his face would be paler in repose, the great mass of golden hair that crowns him crushed beneath his heavy head, and his mouth still and relaxed, not with a hint of a smile, as Tilda sleeps, but with a slightly lowered brow, as Da's is, when at rest. He is beautiful.

My fears gone in the brave shadow of night, I feel that I should not mind so much now were he to be beside me, in my bed. The flickering of the candles belie my bold words, and show me in the reflections above one very, very small upon this great space. I stand taller than he, but I am sure that in all things, he will be my master. It is a strangely pleasing sensation.

Farewell, then, to Sigrid the maid. I shall not write tomorrow, as I fear I will be too busy, but in the days following, I shall endeavor to catch up. I know I will not want to forget anything.


	30. Chapter 30

It has been several days now, and the celebrations are still continuing, but I must back up and begin with the morning of my marrying. I was told that traditionally the clothing I was to wear would have been made by my own hands, but I am sure it went without saying that whatever my meager skills could have accomplished in needlework would not be fit to be seen at such a ceremony and celebration. First thing in the morning I was brought a written scroll in the common tongue, and Khuzdul, both, and told that I must speak it at the ceremony. I greatly feared having to speak the words in the dwarvish language, as it is so different from our tongue and I should only embarrass myself, and I was assured that speaking them in the common tongue would be acceptable.

It was difficult for me to try and learn them as there was a steady stream of guests in and out with gifts, each of which I was supposed to recieve with thanks and promise to make use of as soon as possible. Most of them are articles of jewelry or clothing, and I feel so ridiculously showered in shows of goodwill that I don't know what to do.

I was bathed - my cheeks were hot, as I was not allowed to do this on my own, but was assisted by three bearded smiling dwarrow-maids, who undressed me, giggling and pinching and prodding, and scrubbed me until I am sure I was cleaner than I have ever been - and dressed in the finest robe imaginable. My hair was braided upon my head in a mass of intricate weavings that I am sure speak enough meanings to fill an entire scroll, though I don't know what a single one of them symbolizes.

Then a horn was sounded, and I was covered in a simple robe, over the top of my gown, and a masked helm, as indeed, were all of my party, and we began the procession through the soaring halls to the Hall of Kings, where the ceremony was to be held.

My knees were shaking and I felt rather giddy the entire time, though we were a joyous party, and hardly anyone went without singing and making a great noise. This, I was to find out, was to ensure that we did not take my husband and his party unawares of our coming (though that would be hardly possible, as if he did not know).

The great hall was filled with long tables covered with flowers of Ered Luin and every sort of food imaginable. There was a great space at the head of the hall in which there was nothing, except a high platform which was adorned with ancient tapestries and garlands of greenery. Everything sparkled with great wealth, gems, and precious metals, mined from the mountain beneath us, and it really took my breath away.

Fili stood upon the platform, upon which there were a row of great chairs - then I saw Da, seated in one, wearing a fine tunic and new boots. Thorin sat in a second, his hair and beard woven into elaborate pieces of finery which I do not know the name of. Fili, Kili, and Bain filled the other chairs, and there was one empty in the center, next to Fili's - mine.

Though still afar off, it was a wondrous thing to see him at last. He was dressed entirely in gold, and with his golden hair looked like great king of old, his hair waving and plaited with golden clasps. He gazed at me steadily, and I could see nothing in his eyes. Nothing except nervousness, as I felt. It was strangely comforting.

Someone removed my simple robe and the mask, and I suppose this was revealing which one was me from the lot, though I rather think it was difficult to miss, as I stand taller than any of the other dwarrow-maids.

All the dwarf lords and their families arose at that, and everything grew so very silent. Da stood, and Bain followed him, and together all of the people of Esgaroth joined in a circle around me. Bain met my eyes and gave me a wink, and I smiled back, though I felt rather nervous. Likewise, the dwarves of Erebor joined in a circle about Fili, and with another sounding of a horn, both circles moved swiftly to join, with Fili and myself in the centre. I really wonder if I was the only person there who had no idea what was happening.

Thorin stepped forth from the circle, and read a long contract in the dwarven tongue, which I suspect was the binding of our lives, and our peoples, and Da watched him steadily as he did so. Fili listened attentively, and when Thorin had finished, there arose a deafening cheering that went on for several minutes. It seemed to be a contest as to which people could show the most enthusiasm for the match. I know that Bain and Kili will still be hoarse, even after all the celebrations have ended.

At last they stopped, as Thorin retreated from the circle, and Da stepped forward. My heart was in my throat as I saw Fili bend on one knee to Da, and bow his head for a long moment. Da took his hand and helped him to stand, and then, meeting my eyes, Da joined my hand to Fili's. This was what I knew I had to speak, after Fili recited his seven vows in Khuzdul. In a shaking voice, I said in Westron,

"Blessed are you, Mahal, who has created everything for the glory of Eru.

Blessed are you, Mahal, who fashioned the earth, the mountains, and the hills.

Blessed are you, Mahal, who fashioned the gems and metals in the heart of the mountain.

Blessed are you, Mahal, who fashinoed the dwarves and the seven houses.

Blessed are you, Mahal, who taught the dwarves the skill to work the gems and metals in the heart of the mountain.

Blessed are you, Mahal, who gladdens our Halls through his chilren.

Blessed are you, Mahal, who gladdens groom and bride."

Thankfully, I did not stammer, and made it through all of them in the right order, I am fairly sure. Then Fili spoke, in the common tongue, meeting my gaze. He spoke very quietly, though before he had spoken loud and clear so that everyone could hear him. This, he said, as if it were for my ears alone.

"In my Halls you will find a house, and in your heart I will find a home."

I had been told before how to reply to this, so I whispered back, "In your Halls I will find a house, and in my heart you will find a home."

It was beautiful, and I meant it. No sooner had I finished speaking, when there errupted another great cheering, and we were ushered off by many willing hands to our seats behind the table on the dais, and the feasting and music and dancing and celebrating began.

It was dizzying to watch - for a few moments I could do nothing but stare like an idiot, but Fili's voice in my ear made me recall who I was sitting next to. My husband.  _We were wed._

"Are you happy, lass?" he asked, and remembering that was the very first thing he ever called me brough a warmth to my heart. I nodded. "Did you understand it all?"

I hesitated for a moment, and then shook my head. He laughed, and took my hand, sobering, and pressing a kiss to it.

"Later, I shall kiss every inch of you," he whispered, and I nodded, my face flushing bright, and my hand unconsciously drawing away. He seemed to understand and let me in peace, to watch, and to enjoy the various strange foods that were before us, of which the dwarves were partaking quite vigorously.

Among the crowds I think I sighted Bombur, his bulk difficult to mistake, but I cannot be sure. So many people, men, and women, and dwarves, and dwarrow-maids, and even children came up to us to wish us their best that I began to lose count.

Kili did not stay at the table long, but joined those dancing in the great area as soon as could be considered decent, and I spotted Tilda, whom I had not seen before that, being drug around and around to the lively music, laughing herself breathless. She scampered up as soon as he released her, and gave a pretty curtsey, her eyes shy. My sister, shy before me.

"My best wishes, Lady Sigrid," she told me, and, improper or not, I rose and gave her a tight embrace.

"Just Sigrid, Tilda," I told her. "I'm still your sister."

"Your dress is so beautiful," she told me, once we looked into each other's eyes again. "I have missed you."

"And I you."

"Kili says that you will share a bed with Fili now, not me," she said, looking over at him with a strange expression. My color rose.

"I hope he didn't tell you much more than that."

Tilda shook her head. "Just that you would not be lonely."

I nodded. "I love you, dear."

She opened her mouth to reply, but just then Bain approached, and gave her a quick hug as well.

"Didn't she do well?" he asked Tilda, regarding me with a grin. "I thought so."

"Thank you, Bain," I told him. giving him a hug as well. Bain met Fili's eyes.

"Take good care of her."

Fili nodded soberly, and rose to his feet, his head barely reaching above the crook of Bain's elbow.

"I give you my word I will love her."

Bain nodded. "Good. Care to dance?" And I saw him romping with Tilda through the crowds for a long while after that.

Fili spoke again, after I tasted of the dark wine that was in the cup before me. It was thick, and I tried not to make a face, but neither did I drink any more of it afterward.

"Do you want to join them?"

"Do you?" I regarded him shyly.

He hesitated. "If you wish to."

"I do not really know how to dance."

He smiled. "Then we shall stay put."

It did seem strange that we were sitting soberly on a dais with so much rejoicing around us, watching, instead of participating, but I found that I grew more comfortable sitting next to my husband, and though we did not really speak, it was pleasant. Thorin approached at one point, and regarded Fili and me with something very near a smile upon his face.

"I wish you both all the best things in the world," he said, and Fili rose to embrace him. When he had finished, Thorin's eyes twinkled as he said to him, "Teach her the truth about dwarven love."

I did not understand, but Fili's face grew red, and he merely nodded, and then Thorin sat back down. Da caught my eye, and murmuring about wanting to stretch my legs, I went over to him.

The hall was hot, and when he took my hand, his hand was cool and steady.

"My lady," he said at first, pressing it to his lips.

"Da," I replied weakly, pulling him to his feet and wrapping my arms about him.

We stood thus for a long moment, and he said, "You are a worthy lady of this house as you were a worthy lady of mine." He looked out over the crowds, and said, "I don't want to sound selfish, but what will I do without you to help me lead our people?"

"Tell Tilda that," I smiled. "She is on her way to being a very good lady of the lake."

And Da laughed, saying, "You have blessed me for nearly twenty years. Go, now, and bless another." Enough, for now. I will write of what happened afterward later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers! Thanks so much for your support, it means loads. I just wanted to let you all know that I have started a tumblr account where I am re-posting this story entry by entry, and where you can also ask questions to Sigrid if you are wondering her thoughts on anything happening here, or anything else. the-bowmans-elder-daughter.tumblr.com Hope to hear from you soon, and thanks for reading.


	31. Chapter 31

It was rather embarrassing, really, because everyone knew what was happening, or rather, what was going to happen. The celebrations were to continue for seven days, but after the first evening, we were no longer required to be in attendance. In fact, we were expected not to be. A great group of dwarves and dwarrow-maids mobbed around us and practically carried us from the hall, and to our chambers. It seems the rooms which I had already been staying in are to be ours, and Fili was by ritual excluded from them until this time.

Laughing, cheering, and cajoling, all in Khuzdul, we were deposited before our door, and a great shout went up. Fili looked me in the eye, and said, just so I could hear, "I am going to kiss you now."

My heart leapt as he took my hand, and leaned toward me, pressing his mouth to mine in a deep kiss. The cries were deafening, and the applause rolled like thunder through the heart of the mountain. I had never been kissed upon the mouth by a man or boy in my life before, and it was strange, yet thrilling. When we parted at last, we were both a little breathless, and we both laughed.

"Go on, then!" Kili shouted, giving his brother a shove. "Go on and finish what you began!"

With a glare, Fili planted a mocking kiss upon his brother's mouth and the crowd rolled with groans and cat-calls. Laughing outrageously, Kili pushed Bain forward, to see if I were going to try any similar antics, I suppose. His face was bright red, and I was never going to kiss my brother, so he stuck out his hand awkwardly, and I took it, giving it a brief shake. The guests exploded with laughter again, and we were crowded against our door until Fili's hand met mine on the latch and it gave way behind us, and we had to force it shut against the still cheering crowd.

"Will they go away?" I asked, once we were safely locked within, feeling disheveled and breathless.

"Eventually." Fili regarded me with a smile. "Are you happy?"

"You keep asking - do you not believe me?" I murmured. "I am very, very happy."

"Then may you still say that come morning," Fili said in a low voice.

Already we could hear the sounds of the guests moving away through the halls, the call of more food, wine, and celebrating too great to resist.

It was late, and the torches flickered in their brackets on the walls, sending dancing light all about the shadowed room.

"Do you like it?" Fili asked, indicating with a general gesture the chamber. "I prepared it for you as soon as I returned."

It struck me that the brass-ceilinged idea must have been his.

"It is more grand than anything I have ever imagined," I answered honestly. "I don't know if I can grow used to the feeling that it is mine."

"In time, one can adjust to many things," he replied. "I have seen you adjust to much greater changes."

I nodded. "This one is the best, by far."

A smile lit his eyes. "My words exactly."

Suddenly, a silence descended over us. The guests had all gone - it was just us, alone, myself and my husband, in the night.

"Are you tired?" Fili asked, very gently, still making no move toward the bed. I could hardly bear to look that direction, for fear of blushing madly.

I shook my head. "Not really. Only a little."

Slowly, he reached out and took my hand in his. I must have unconsciously drawn back, for he said, his voice deep and uneven, "It is alright. Anything is alright now that we are married."

Of course. Of course it was, I was just being a fool. That is what I said, I'm afraid, and he made no reply, merely taking my other hand, and leading me toward the dressing mirror, not meeting my eyes.

He stood me before the reflection and I gazed upon both of us, looking as if we were a lord and lady from a fairy tale.

"Do you see what I see?" he whispered at last. I nodded.

"A beautiful prince," I said quietly.

He shook his head. "A beautiful princess."

I needed to get away from my own face staring back at myself, so turning, I faced him, and very tentatively, did what I had been wanting to do for some time. I lifted my hand, and placed it upon the side of his face, feeling his bearded cheek cupped in my palm.

His eyes slid closed, and I could hear his breath catch within his throat as he lifted one of his broad hands and covered mine.

"Mahal," he muttered, and concern rose in my breast.

"Is it - "

"No, no..." he said quickly, his voice rough and deep, barely more than a growl. "You are so beautiful."

I felt a heat rise to my face, but lifted my other hand to stroke a piece of wayward hair back from his brow, and he put his other hand about my waist, pulling me close to him. I was stiff in his embrace, but slowly relaxed as he spread his palms upon my back, and pressed me ever nearer to him.

I hardly felt like myself, and I was beginning to feel quite dizzy. My legs wavered beneath me, and Fili wordlessly led me to the bed so that I could sit. I buried my face in my hands.

"I am so afraid," I managed at last. I could feel the heat of him as he stood before me, and he slowly lifted my face in his warm hands.

"Of what, love?" he asked, gazing into my eyes. He looked away a moment later. "I promise I will be gentle."

"I am afraid of not pleasing you," I added, in a barely audible voice. Fili let loose a grunt of contempt.

"You could never displease me, lass," he said, drawing my head against his chest in a fierce gesture. "You could never displease me."

I could hear his heart thudding beneath my ear, and it increased my bravery. I was already acting a fool, and nothing had happened yet. I vowed to be the brave girl that Fili and my father think I am, and so I lifted my face, saying, "I must get out of this dress."

Fili eyed me with admiration. "Aye, you must."

I began to fumble with the lacings on the bodice, and heard Fili doing the same with his fine clothing. At last, I found it was in a worse knot than when I began (and the shaking of my hands did not help) and so we ended up facing each other, slowly working at the ties on each other's clothing. I could not meet his eyes, but once I felt the bodice of my gown loosen, I stopped short and took a deep breath. Relax. I love him. The thought prompted my next action, which was to slip from the gown and stand only in my shift. The draft of the cool air circulating through the mountain caught about my ankles, and I shivered as I hurried across the stone floor and laid the gown across the chair before the dressing table. When I turned back around, I took in my breath.

He had removed all of his clothing except his heavy trousers. He stood before me, shameless, as the day I had come upon him at the kilns, but this time, I did not have to turn away. A flush covered my face even so as I looked upon him, and he approached me, taking my shoulders and turning me about, seating me on the bed. He crawled upon his knees behind me, and I could feel his strong hands beginning to carefully unbraid the plaits which lined my head.

Somehow his touch upon my scalp made my neck muscles go weak. At last, my hair hung in errant waves from the braids loose about my shoulders. I could hear Fili catch his breath.

"I have never seen your hair down before, Sigrid," he said, his tongue catching upon the middle of my name as it always did. He ran his hand through it's depths, and then stopped. I grew tense, and then felt it - his hot breath upon my skin as he lowered his lips to my shoulder, and pressed a kiss there.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I turned, as he pressed more kisses, and quicker to the skin upon my shoulder and neck, and the roughness of his beard against me made me eager for more of him. He burned as though with a fever. I stroked a finger down his mustache braids, and pressed another kiss to his lips, tasting his mouth, which was flavored with wine, and something sweeter. His arms were about me, pulling me against his bare chest, and we lay down entwined, his legs pressing upon mine, his weight bearing me deep within the bed.

I must have looked nervous for he spoke to me then. "Am I frightening you, child?"

And I shook my head.

I cannot write more of how we passed the night, but though I fumbled and humiliated myself in more ways than one, our love covered over our mistakes, and at last, both expended, we collapsed in each others arms and there slept til morning. I will not lie, it was painful, and I hurt even now as I write, but my husband assures me that I shall grow more accustomed to these things as we do them more.  _As we do them more._ We have spent three nights together, and each is better than the last. In the day time we join our guests, but can hardly keep our gazes from meeting, our mouths from smiling, and Kili has taken to teasing us almost constantly. But I do not mind. I love him so. I love him so. I love him so.


	32. Chapter 32

Today the guests have all departed and we were in the great hall some hours bidding them goodbye, and receiving once again their good wishes. It was difficult - more difficult than I could have ever imagined - to say goodbye to Da, and Bain and Tilda, and to realize that I do not know when I will see them again. I trust that I will, and there were many promises made, but I still do not have any assurance of when our paths will next meet.

Thorin bade farewell to the company of men, and said in a low voice to Da, "It is a great alliance that has been forged between our peoples. We will not treat it lightly."

And Da nodded soberly. "I should hope not."

Bain hugged me in a tight grip, and said in my ear, "Goodbye, Sigrid. We'll miss you." It was simple and obvious - so much like him - to the point, and painfully straightforward.

"And I will miss you," I whispered back. "I never told you what a grand brother you are."

And he simply wiped his eyes, and gave me a nod, pushing Tilda forward. She silently wrapped her arms around me, and I held her close, feeling the sob rising in my throat.

"Don't forget us," she managed at last, and I kissed the top of her head several times, saying:

"I won't forget you; not a thousand years in these halls could drive the memories we have together from my heart."

"Are you happy?" she said very quietly, and I looked over to where Fili stood, a little ways off, watching my farewells from a respectful distance.

"I am," I told her, giving a smile. "I love Fili very much, and that is the only thing that will make living apart from my family easier to bear. This is my family now."

"Will you write to me? Send notes? Letters?" She was babbling now, a desperate attempt to prolong our time together. I nodded.

"If I can. Take good care of everything." I put my hands on her shoulders. "You are the Lady of Esgaroth, now."

Her eyes filled, and she said in a shaking voice, "I won't be as good at it as you."

"Nonsense. Make sure that the dwarves are well looked after, especially Bombur." I smiled. Tilda looked up as Da approached, and stood by her side.

"Goodbye, Tilda," I whispered. "I love you."

"I love you too," she said, so quietly I almost didn't hear her. And then I was enfolded in Da's arms.

"Da," I gasped, as he held me ever closer.

"My girl," he replied thickly.

"We will be so far away..."

"Never," he whispered back. "You'll always be near me in my memory."

And, as if not trusting himself to say much more, Da drew back and regarded me in silence before turning to Fili and taking his hand, his voice rough. "Take care of her."

"It is my sworn duty and my heart's privilege," Fili said with equal emotion.

I stood before the great entrance to the kingdom under the mountain - my new home - and watched the trail of our party wind it's way across the valley and up the opposite slopes. Tears stung my eyes, and the cold wind whipping about did not make it any more pleasant. Fili stood, silent, at my side, until they were nearly lost from sight, and then I gave in and cried like a baby on his shoulder. His broad hand went to and fro over my hair as I bent to be wrapped in his arms, and he muttered unintelligible things to me in Khuzdul until I quieted.

"I am sorry," he said at last. "You are strong to witness such a thing."

"It is as if they have died," I whispered. "I don't know if I will ever see them again."

"Oh, lass." Fili wrapped me in his strong arms again, and I sighed, wiping the tears from my face. "I think you will."

I hope he is right. I have been quiet all day, and I think he knows this. There are many duties that will keep him occupied through the days, the issues of rebuilding and organizing the reestablished kingdom, but today he has done nothing but attend to me in the kindest way. When night fell we walked out before the great entrance, wrapped well against the cold, and watched the stars circle above us.

"Do you think they're watching the stars as well?" I murmured, not being able to help myself. "I"m sorry," I added. "I won't be this gloomy always."

"You love them. They were your life." Fili sighed. "I am feeling that I will be hard pressed to make up for what they have given you, and for what has now been taken away."

I spoke the words slowly - words I said so often to my family once things started happening - things that changed lives. The dragon, the betrothal... things that changed things.

"...I love you."

I could see the starshine glancing from his light eyes as he gazed at me.

"Mahal..." was all he said. I smiled, and said it again, firmer this time.

"I love you. I had never told you."

And he leaned in and kissed me, his face warm against mine, the bulk of the furs in which we were wrapped moulding together as we pressed closer, our arms intertwined. I wonder if I will grow stronger as regards these things (I rather hope not); I felt dizzy and not at all myself again, as I do when we spend our nights bare in each other's arms.

When he pulled his mouth away from mine, I could see his breath upon the air, laden with fog as with the smoke of his pipe.

 _"_ _Men lananubukhs menu_ ," he said, and somehow I knew, though his language is still unknown to me. He repeats it over and over in the night, breathless with kissing, and rough with his foreign speech. "I love you."

We have each other now, and somehow, I feel that it is enough against whatever the world may send our way.


	33. Chapter 33

I have not written in some time. It is not that I have not had time, for indeed, I have been idler than I ever remember being in my life. But it is the things that are written here, that tie me to my old life in Laketown, on the shores of the lake, rebuilding Esgaroth, that call to me and have forced me to keep this book shut for so long as I grow in strength.

It is midwinter now, and a most curious thing it is beneath the mountain. I feel we are almost hibernating, like animals. The company that went with my family back to Esgaroth have returned and are wintering here until the weather is more permitting for reconstruction. But no one has been idle, not by a far cry.

It is fortunate that much of the rebuilding of Erebor happens within the mountain, so it can continue despite the snow and cold. I have made friends of a few of the dwarrow-maids, and it has been very enjoyable to trade skills by the light of the warm fires. They know how to do so many things I had never heard of, and in turn, I teach them some of the more practical things that I know. At first they would not let me do things myself, but I finally told them, in plain words, that I would go mad if I was not allowed to rummage and please myself. So I go down to the great kitchens quite regularly, as unproper as they say it is, and amuse myself.

Kili often joins me when Fili is too busy to keep my company. Together we have roamed all over the inside of the mountain, and yet he assures me that we haven't even seen half of it yet. He said even he hasn't seen it all, and only Thorin and Balin and the other older dwarves fully know it's extent. I can hardly imagine.

He is a great comfort (Kili) to me, because he reminds me much of Bain. He is much more of a tease than Bain ever was, however, and I have learned to countenance things from him that I never would have dreamed to hear coming from my own brother.

"May I call you sister, now?" he asked one day. "You know, you technically are my sister, since you married my brother."

"Of course," I smiled. "That would make me very happy."

"Good. What shall we do, then, sister? If you're like me you get bored easily, and have to start scaring up things to do."

I laughed. "I wouldn't say bored. But I'd like the company."

"Splendid. Come with me, then. Have you seen the armory yet?"

I shook my head and he struck his hands together.

"Of course! You must see it." And beckoning for me to follow him, he hurried off. Drawing my heavy overdress closer about me, for it is drafty in the high halls, I went with Kili for quite a distance, up, up, up, until I could only imagine what heights of the mountainside were above us without. Pushing open a heavy door, Kili showed me into a great crypt, which though it was old and dusty and covered with cobweb and mildew, contained weapons of every sort imaginable, and more too, in a remarkable state of preservation.

"We cleaned them and put them in order at once," Kili said, in reply to my unspoken wonder. "We anticipated an attack from the elves, or from the men after the dragon came." He regarded me from the tops of his brown eyes, peering through his hair. "But none came, and for that we are glad."

"An alliance has been made with men, now you must set yourselves to an alliance with Thranduil..." I began, giving in to the urge to tease him at last. "I don't know how that could be managed, but -"

"My uncle would never allow it." Kili rolled his eyes, and heaved a sigh. "But I would wish for it with all my soul. I dream of her in the night - lying beneath me, beside me -  _anywhere_  - her long hair the color of fire draping against my skin, her white hands working their magic with -"

My stares stopped him short and he rocked with laughter, and I joined in at last. If I may take the name of a god not my own in vain,  _Mahal!_ What fiery hearts dwarves have...

"Which weapon do you prefer?" I asked at last, knowing enough about dwarves by now that once you get them started talking about weaponry and fighing techniques one can hardly stop them.

"The bow, of course, though you won't find one in here."

"The bow?" I was surprised. Pleasantly so. Da wasn't called the Bowman for nothing, after all. "Really?"

"Yes. When I was younger I did it just to infuriate my uncle, who hated elves and anything pertaining to them. He told me that dwarves could not use the bow and I set to proving him wrong. I turned out to be quite good." He tossed his head. "But I also use a sword as well. It's easier for close quarters."

Crossing the room and hefting down a large, broad-bladed specimen, he twirled the heavy weapon expertly. "What about you?"

I was initially confused. "What about me?"

"What's your weapon of choice?"

I shook my head. "Nay, girls and women have no need to use weapons. Do dwarven women?"

Kili shook his head. "We protect them like gold. But I thought that the daughters of men were warriors like the daughters of elves...?"

I shook my head again. "Not this daughter of man."

Kili beamed. "Well, I should teach you, then. Any dwarf would admire a woman who can defend herself in battle, and maybe even outfight him."

I laughed. "That is no reflection upon you, of course. I have heard tales of your first meeting with Tauriel..."

He colored. "I was defending myself just fine, I merely wanted her to feel that she had the upper hand. Flattery, and all that."

I nodded wisely. "I see."

He punched me in the arm, none to gently, and I laughed instead of wincing for his benefit, though it was really more of a gasp. "Come on, then. This sword should suit you."

He removed a longer, more slender blade from the rack, and showed me which was the sharp edge. Bending his knees and bouncing slightly, rocking forward in his boots and back, he began to circle an imaginary foe, aiming a few vicious slashes through the air, and penetrating the silent grotto with an occasional battle cry.

"Like that," he said at last, regarding me breathlessly. "You try."

I lifted the sword, which was heavy in my hand, and saw with disappointment the tip droop for the ground. Stiffening my wrists, I grasped it in both hands and aimed a gentle swipe in his direction. He laughed.

"Not bad. Now do it again, and actually try to hit me."

I shook my head. "I don't want to hit you."

"You won't. Now - like this." He demonstrated, placing his legs far apart and leaning forward ever so slightly. "Let the weight of the weapon balance you. And swing - " he did so, "And follow it's lead. Make sure it is never out of control, though it will try to pull you off-balance."

I hesitated, and then narrowing my eyes, gripped the sword in both hands and aimed a slash toward Kili who raised his blade to meet it with a startling crash in the stone crypt.

"Again!" he called, and I lifted the blade once more, stepping back, and aiming more carefully this time. He looked surprised.

"You have a warrior within you after all!" he exclaimed, meeting several more of my slashes and thrusts, and beginning to attempt a few of his own. I met his blade in the air, clumsily, but firmly enough, and there was a grinding sound as the metal screeched apart again. Kili's face was one huge smile. He was enjoying this, but his attack was growing more intense, and finally I called to him to stop, or someone would get hurt.

Breathless, we stood, our weapons inactive in our hands, and Kili's smile was gradually replaced with a look of horor.

"Oh, Valar..." he muttered, hurrying forward and taking the sword from my hand, clattering it back in its place upon the rack and regarding me with a stricken face. "Oh, Valar..."

"What is it?" I asked, alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"It's - I ..." he swallowed noisily. "I wasn't thinking. Forgive me - I was very, very wrong - thoughtless... This was dangerous -"

"Kili, what are you talking about?" I demanded. "I'm alright."

"Yes, but now that you are the wife of the prince, one cannot be sure you are not carrying an heir within you. And if I thought that for a minute I had put you in danger..." He covered his face. "Forgive me."

My face colored. A child. Of course. What if I were with child.

"I am strong, I am alright, and I think your fears are without foundation," I told him at last. "I - I would have stopped you if that were the case."

"But one never knows," Kili said hoarsely. "Such a fool I am."

Thus, our impromptu training session ended as abruptly as it began, and I have not been to the armory since. But it was very interesting, nonetheless. I find myself thinking on Kili's words. Of course I know how children are begun. I just did not realized - until now - how likely the truth is. I am suddenly afraid.


	34. Chapter 34

First an apology, and then some thanks, and then I'll post the next chapter. It seems that I accidentally made a duplicate in doc manager, and now I have to fill in a gap so my numbering system won't be thrown off. So, sorry, I won't keep you long, but I do want to prove that the author of this story actually exists in the real world, and isn't just posing as Sigrid in Middle Earth! 

I had absolutely no idea how this would take off, and I thank every one of you who has reviewed, favorited, followed, and simply read this. I know that these numbers are no reflection upon my talents, but rather upon the love that everyone has for the idea of Sigrid and Fili together, and that alone makes me so happy. But I honestly am baffled by you guys and your response to this. So let me take a moment for some honorable mentions among my wonderful readers from my first posting...

Legolin12 - my first reviewer, and a great encouragement to me! Thanks, dear, your enthusiasm keeps me forever in a state of excitement about this pairing.

Mnemosyne23 - for writing her own Figrid fics and reading and reviewing mine most comprehensively. Your thoughts are great to hear. It makes me proud to be a writer.

Jesus . Lives - the user on here with the truest penname in the universe, and with an eye for character analysis and plot movement. I appreciate hearing from you, love!

ZabuzasGirl - You make me laugh! Impatience is flattering in this case...

Lstorm - for being a sensitive favoriter. Yes, I stalk my followers/favoriters and I am flattered when I see someone who has added me to their list of 29 favorites, rather than to a list of 5,000... Oh, and also a great reviewer. You make my day each time. Thank you for your faithfulness.

KelseyBI- you as well! Thanks, dear! Your reviews are appreciated more than you know. And thanks for keeping my secret- that I actually write much farther ahead than I post.

Helicopter815 - who likes Fili for more reasons than his "hotness"...

Maigleggal - for being such a dear, both in PMs and in reviews. Your observance of the nuances others miss is brilliant in a language not your first. You have the heart of a true shipper!

Scheherazade's Fable - for reviewing! Plain and simple, you make me smile :)

TheOutcast4 - shoutouts are great! Noooooooo! You echo my thoughts.

Miriel Tolkien - who was awesome enough to ask if she could put my story in the community she is starting for Figrid fics. Check it out as soon as she gets it going! Bound to be brilliant, and extremely flattering. Thanks, Miriel!

Finduilas88- for asking intelligent questions and commenting insightfully. I appreciate a pro-active reviewer, and you make my intellectual day with your words.

Idrylla - for reviewing and writing great stuff as well.

InezSophia - for following and reviewing! I am amazed at you followers' longevity. I would have been bored to death of my killing-time in Sigrid's life long before this if I were not having such fun making things up...

ArtemisFaery - you are such an encouragement. Seriously, yours are some of the reviews that put a broad smile on my face and sometimes make me laugh like a maniac (to the horror of my family). Thank you, truly and deeply, for your kind words. I am glad you have come to love Sigrid as much as I do.

Pizchouette - for encouraging me to GET TO IT on the chemistry, which I do believe in, by the way, as much fun as I have writing the awkward side of their relationship.

thekidisnotyourson- for being such a careful reader, reading as we all should. And also for being an awesome person. Her writing is wonderful as well, check it out as soon as you possibly can, especially if you like Thranduil... Much love, dear!

Music of Light - I was so happy to hear from you. I am glad that you like it, and hope that you continue to enjoy wherever this story goes. I am so elated you can identify with Sigrid. More than I should probably say, I am basing her on my own thoughts, emotions, feelings, and experiences, so I am so happy to hear that they translate well on paper. Sometimes I think that Sigrid and I are the only ones. Bless you!

And to my guest readers, every single one of you, even if I don't know who you are! Some of you gave me clues:

Guest - "Lilly" - it amazes me to think of you dear guests checking back again and again just to see if I have been pecking away at any more of this run-on story... thank you so much for your multiple reviews. You are the best.

Guest-Who-Put-In-Three-Hearts - thank you! I wish I could message you back, but I appreciate you so much!

Guest-Who-Reviewed-Three-Time-In-A-Row - I appreciate your taking the time to let me imagine the progression of your thoughts and feelings as you read. Thank you, thank you. It is so rewarding.

Guest - "Artemis/Arti" - Your words fill me with joy and hope. Writing is a great hobby of mine, and though I doubt it will ever be a career, you are a darling to encourage me never to give it up. I think I shall take your advice :-)

And to those who, by simply electing to follow this, have flattered me beyond description:

Alna, Amelia1108, Booksnake, BloodBlackAlchemist, Elenya Silverstar, Imaginemeruler, Ithilya, KiliThorinGirl103, LarkasBlessing122291, Lavendar 26, LilliannaStone, Lissy7, LotrNaustenfan, LuanaCiuffreda, MYSTERYGEEK, Mademoiselle Diablerie, Midnight Promise, Miims, Milady Oakenshield (hi!), Paulina1611, Pompeia90, Ranger Maestro, Red089, Reima-of-the-Kells, Rhyska Nevar, Sbonsi, SparrowBirdy, VictoireAgathon, Zaru-Chan, aeriestar, fanfictionbyvictoria, kassiopeia089, katnor, kurisetaru, lynnelay, mamabam, maybege, meredith m chamberlain, one-fili-to-rule-them-all, planless, rcolley1993, sarhurren, the lost mutantm trustbroccoli23, and whiteredebony.

I wish I could know more about all of you and thank you so much for your interest in me and my scribblings. Thank you a thousand times over. And once more.

So, having poured out my thanks upon those who are as much to credit for the continuation of this story as I am, and having sufficiently proven that I do, in fact, exist on the other side of my computer screen, I will on with the story. God bless you!

Lady Viola Delesseps


	35. Chapter 35

This may be improper to record, and though I do not think I will forget it, I wanted to write it down. After what I wrote last night, Fili came in, no sooner had I closed the book.

"Hello," I said, and he smiled back.

"Sigrid." I love hearing him say my name. "I have not seen your face all day." He sighed, as if this were something hard to bear. I smiled.

"I have missed you, but I know that you are needed greatly, and I wouldn't want to interfere."

"Nonsense," he growled, unbuckling his belt and easing his heavy overcoat from his shoulders. "What did you do all the day long? I hope you weren't bored or lonely."

"Not at all, Kili amused me."

"He has a way of doing that," Fili chuckled, stepping out of his boots, and flopping back upon the bed, his hair askew. "Mahal, I am tired..."

"Can I get you anything?" I asked, standing, and going to the small table across the chamber which holds a ewer of water for drinking and a few carven cups.

"A drink would be nice."

"Water?"

"Ale, if it's handy."

I shook my head. "I can send for it."

"Nay, water will do, then."

Rising, he came and took the cup from my hand, downing it in hurried gulps. Catching his breath after the cup was emptied, he brushed the droplets from his beard and caught me in a hug.

"So soon...?" I murmured, smiling, for though it was early, I am starting to look forward to nighttime more than I probably should. There is no shame in loving my husband, I know, but I am not sure if it is entirely proper for a woman to have desires of this sort. Women are to fulfill, not demand.

"Aye, so soon," Fili chuckled, his throat vibrating against my shoulder. "Unless you object?"

I shook my head. "Never."

Together, still dressed, we migrated to the bed, and I began to toy with his hair, something that is always a wonder to me. His hair would be the envy of any woman, as there is such a great amount of it, and it grows in such heavy waves of a rich golden color. Fingering the braids that he wears, one before his ear, one behind on each side of his head, I pressed a kiss to his ear, feeling bold.

He caught his breath, and reaching around me, tugged at the laces on my dress until they gave under his touch. I aided him in pulling it from my shoulder, and he stared in alarm at the skin there. I twisted in attempt to glimpse what so appalled him.

"What is it?"

"A bruise... and such a bruise -" His brows knit. "What happened?"

I suddenly remembered - one of Kili's strokes had come too close, and in effort to block it I had struck myself with the pommel of my own sword. Not a story I'd be proud to tell, and I had nearly succeeded in forgetting. He pressed his fingers gently to it, and I winced.

"Does that hurt?"

I nodded. "Kili was teaching me to spar today, and-"

"If he hurt you, I will punish him myself."

"No - no, it was my fault. I was clumsy, and ..." I trailed off. "We did not go for long. He said it was... dangerous."

"And he was right." Fili's eyes were bright with worry. "Don't do any more of that, lass, I'd never forgive myself if harm came to you. Neither would your father."

I nodded. "I will be careful." Because I have every intention of learning the sword better if I can.

"Do you think we will see the end of this in our lifetimes?" Fili wondered aloud after a moment of silence, my hands still going to and fro in his hair.

"The end of what?"

"The restoration. I should so like to be present to witness Erebor once again in all it's glory."

"If your hard work is any indication, I should say so," I smiled. "But I don't really know. I always thought that I would see the raising of Esgaroth..." I trailed off. I should not speak so before him, lest he think I am unhappy.

Fili turned so he could look into my eyes once again. "You miss them still."

My voice was low. "I will never cease to miss them."

Fili's eyes were humid with sadness, and it struck a pang in my heart to think that I had caused it. "Then I am doing something wrong."

"No, no..." I hastened to assure him. "I love them. They are my family. I shall always miss them."

"But you are not unhappy with me?"

I shook my head. "Your doubt is disconcerting."

"Your happiness is one of the most important things to me."

"One?" I cocked my head. He hesitated.

" _The_  most important," he amended, leaning in, and whispering, his breath hot against my lips, "Let me show you my love... I think you grow eager." His touch was heavy with intent, and I could feel my face growing hot, something I think I shall never outgrow.

"Please," I whispered, and then I could no longer think clearly to evaluate the results of my request. I think I am beginning to understand what Thorin meant when he told Fili to show me the true way of dwarven love.

At last, striving for breath in the still air of the room, and drooping with exertion in each other's arms, Fili spoke again. It was quite late.

"When we first met I told you something that I had never even told Thorin, nor Kili." There was a long silence. "You have the sort of gaze that makes people want to confide in you."

"When we spoke not long after that I was struck with how much you knew of me." I sighed happily. "It was as if we had known each other for much longer than we had."

Fili shifted, his arm beneath me, the warmth of his damp skin pressing into the back of my neck, my tangled hair scattered over him. "Then..." He seemed to be thinking hard. "Then I have a chance after all, because of that, of winning your entire affection."  
"You have my entire affection," I murmured, not understanding him.

"I mean that your love for your father and siblings has long occupied your heart, and has deep root there. But if our love for each other predates our acquaintance - then I have a chance after all?"

"Fili, you can never drive my love of them away, not even in my love for you," I told him quietly.

He gave another sigh. "I am just jealous, then, to think that any one else has your good opinion."  
I laughed. "Even my father and siblings?"

His eyes met mine as he sat up, and regarded me seriously. "There are many things that I still do not know about you, but I have a lifetime of finding that out. You would likely say the same of me. Still, there is something I feel I should tell you now."

I suddenly felt a little fearful. What was it going to be? Some dreadful secret? I feel certain that nothing he could say would make my love for him flagger, but I could not help but feel that my fears were reflected on my face, for he looked very sober, and traced with one finger the bruise upon my shoulder as he spoke, slowly, and deliberately.

"Thorin and I were working together today. We do not often, for the rebuilding needs masters in many different places too much for us to be side by side. We spoke of many things, and at last, conversation turned to you."

I had to remember to breathe, and I did not remove my gaze from his face, though now my view was mostly of his broad forehead, as his eyes were still attentive to my shoulder.

"I spoke to him of my love for you, much as the first day I broached the subject to him. Then, he was somewhat angered, and I was surprised that he agreed in the end. I asked him plainly how it was that he thought so well of you now, and if it was, as I suspected, that he could see what a great woman you are and will become."

I tried not to hear the compliment, looking past it, instead, to the  _But_  that I knew was coming.

"But..." Fili lowered his head and kissed me, as if he needed the strength to go on. "But he told me then... his true motive in permitting us to wed."

I squirmed. "He desires alliances," I began, hoping to aid him. "He does not believe in love, but merely saw it as an occasion to forge a peaceable bond between dwarves and men." Fili shook his head, and my brow furrowed. "What then? He did not desire a daughter of man to one day rule as queen of a dwarven prince?"

Fili's voice was heavy and almost hoarse with consternation. "He said that he only allowed it because we would be getting the better end of the bargain."

"How so...?" I breathed.

"The lifespan of a human is less than a third of that of a dwarf. We have our alliance, and your life will soon be spent while I am still young. Then I can marry again, and the alliance will not be broken."

I resisted to urge to be shocked by the revelation, but a tear dripping from Fili's face above me caused me to draw him within my arms and hold him close as he shook, managing, "He is already _planning_  for your death when I can barely think on it. We have been together for so little time."

"It is true that I will die after a mere sixty years more, maybe sooner," I said at last, when his harsh grip on me relaxed and I could speak again. "You will still have much of your life left."

"But to scheme in such a way," Fili growled. "I am so angry."

I hardly know what to think. I wonder if I will be able to speak to Thorin properly knowing that he sees me only as the amount of years left to pay off the debt of alliance. This is growing too long to finish now, but I will write more later.


	36. Chapter 36

Ah. So we lay in silence for some while, and at last, heaving a great sigh, Fili sat up and clambered to his feet. He was clad only his his trousers, which he did up more respectably, and beckoned to me in silence. Rising, and tugging my thin shift up over my shoulder (though this only caused the other side to fall, for, as I said, the dwarrow-maids have still not entirely mastered the art of sewing narrower clothing for me), I stood on the cold floor.

"What are we doing?" I asked at length, as he continued to regard me with an enigmatic gaze.

"Come with me."

I pulled back. "We are not dressed."

"No one will see us."

"Are you sure?"

"If they do, they will not speak of it." Fili smiled. "I have an idea."

And so, as quietly as possible, resisting the urge to break into giggles as we crept like burglars through the enormous night-lit halls beneath the mountain, we made our way down, down, down, into the very heart of the earth, it seemed. If earlier that day I had gone up to the peaks, now we were below even the roots of the mountain. The air grew warmer as we descended, and it seemed to grow moister as well.

"Where are we going?" I repeated for perhaps the fifth time, and Fili just smiled over his shoulder, his grip on my hand firm, as he had the previous times. "No - Fili - where?"

He stopped short. "Don't you trust me?" I smiled, and nodded. "Then close your eyes."

I shook my head. "Why?"

He rolled his eyes. "Then sniff. What do you smell?"

I took a whiff of the warm damp air around me, and said, "Wet. It smells like the rain on rocks." The realization washed over me. "The lake. It smells like the shore of the lake."

He nodded. "And what do you hear?"

There was a distant roaring that had been coming closer and closer that I had disregarded, as so many sounds in the halls of Erebor were reduced to rolling echoes by mere distance.

"It sounds like... a river, almost."

He nodded. "It is a river."

My eyes widened. "A river beneath the mountain?"

"Now close your eyes."

I obliged, and caught my breath as his arms behind my back picked me up off my feet and held me close to him. I had not fear that he would drop me, for he can bear much greater weights, but still I clung to him as heavy steps took us down a curving set of stairs.

Moist spray littered my face and hair, and the roaring was suddenly around us, and I heard the splash of water as Fili seemed to step down into a warm pool.

"Can I open them?" I asked, speaking above the sound of the rushing water, and feeling the tug of the current at his legs.

"Not yet." He did not speak after that, but continued to slosh through the water until I could hardly hear for the deafening roaring that surrounded us.

"Fili?" I asked, but then I could say no more as the great weight of water falling from above crashed down on us, and I was drenched to the skin, still held fast in Fili's arm. I opened my mouth to cry out, but it was filled with water, and spluttering and gasping, he finally moved us out of the crush of the waterfall, and I opened my eyes, looking at him in shock and pleasure.

His hair was plastered to his head as he broke into boisterous laughter and set me on my feet in the thigh-high water.

"A waterfall!" I gasped. "But aren't they just nice to look at?"  
He seemed to find this immensely funny, and for a moment it seemed that Fili and the falls were having a contest as to who could roar louder.

"I wanted to surprise you," he said at last.

"And you did!"

Dabbling my hand in the warm, fresh water, I flicked a little bit from the end of my fingers toward him and watched for his response.

Fili's eyes widened. "You want to play that game, do you, lass?" He shook his head. "I tell you, I will win. I always do."

And he splashed a great wall of water toward me. I ran screaming like a child toward the falls, and immersed myself in them, feeling the weight press down upon my drenched head and pound my shoulders until I felt my legs should buckle. Fili's hand grabbed mine, and pulled me deeper within the falls, and I tried to tug back, knowing I needed air, but he pulled me on until suddenly we were released, and found ourselves in a damp stony hollow, behind the falls. It was beautiful.

"Well, here we are," Fili smiled. "What shall we do, now that we are here?"

I grinned. "Never leave."

He nodded. "It sounds like a good plan. Except that Erebor will never be completed at this rate."

I laughed. "Let it complete itself."

Fili's gaze met mine, and he let his eyes rove over my form, scantily clad as it was in the thin shift, made transparent by the wet, and clinging to my skin.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured, leaning forward and capturing my lips in a kiss. When he didn't stop, I let out a little squeak, my back was pressing into the rocks behind us as he crowded me against them, still kissing me madly.

"Fili," I gasped when he at last broke away for a moment, his panting upon my cheek erratic and sending shivers of delight along me, for the wet there evaporated with his breath.

"Sigrid," he replied in kind, and I ran my hands along his face and beard, sopping with water and delightfully disheveled.

"Are we really going to do this here?" I asked at last, seeing that my touch seemed to make him weak with pleasure, and finding that I did not want to stop either.

"Yes." He smiled. "Yes, we are."


	37. Chapter 37

We have visited the waterfall several times since that first night, and sometimes we retreat behind the wall of water to talk and lavish our love upon each other, and sometimes we splash and scream like children, teasing and engaging in wars of wits that would put any of the politicians back in Laketown out of their depth.

Our days are filled with work, our nights with pleasure, but the real reason I am writing of this is because of what transpired between us most recently at the falls. It certainly deserves recording. My awareness of this possibility was heightened after my exchange with Kili in the armory, and as silly as it sounds, I had not really thought of it before that. Yes, Da had explained things to me, but I have gotten (I am ashamed to say) so caught up in the learning of it, and the enjoyment that I had quite forgotten the purpose, or shall I say, common result. Goodness, I really sound like a politician now, cryptic, and painfully elusive. I will just write what happened.

I had been suspecting some while, for though I know little, the dwarrow-maids that often still insist on bathing me and helping me dress are more than eager to help point out certain changes to me, and poke and prod and examine in the most kind yet humiliating way. I was a little shocked when I did not bleed with the cycle of the moon, and expected that it would merely be late, and so did not record it. I did not want to waste paper with such trifles. But when it did not come a second time and I began to feel ill the mornings, Oin was sent for. I wish it had been Balin, for he is so kind, and I trust him, but unfortunately, he is not the apothecary. I can't help but remember that Oin could not help Kili when his life was in danger. I hope it is no reflection upon his skills.

All the others were sent away, though they hovered about eagerly, and were loth to depart until Oin practically had to usher them from the room himself. Nervous, I smiled, and greeted him again.

"It has been such a long time since we have seen each other," I said, though I knew he likely could not hear me. "I saw you at the wedding, but could not say hello."

"Eh? Lassie, you'll have to speak up," Oin said loudly, giving me a smile and a bob of the head. "Hello?"

"Yes, hello," I repeated loudly. "It is good to see you."

"Aye, good to see you," he repeated, "Though to me you still look like the lass of Bard that we met in Laketown."

I smiled. "I am glad I am not too changed."

"What has changed?"

I shook my head. "Nothing - well..."

It was going to be embarrassing to speak so loudly to him of such things, for I knew that the dwarrow-maids were waiting outside, no doubt with ears pressed to the door, but my coloring was enough apparently.

"Ahh... ahh-!" He beamed. "You are thinking what we are all hoping. Lay down, my lady, if you will, and I'll be gentle. Bleeding?"

I did as he said, shaking my head.

"Illness in the morning hours?" I nodded. He leaned close and whispered gustily in my ear, "Tenderness about the bosom?" I colored, but nodded.

"If you'll allow me..." He leaned over me, and his large warm hands pressed on my abdomen, probing gently, and smiling as he did so. I winced a little as he seemed to encounter what he was looking for, and it filled me with a wave of dizziness.

"Does that hurt, lass?" he asked. I shook my head.

"Not exactly hurt - just..."

A few more probes, and he pressed the flat of his hand once more to my lower abdomen. "Feel that?" he asked, taking my hand and replacing it where his own had been. "Press, and feel that?"

I did so, and was filled with an odd tingling as I encountered a firmness beneath the skin that I had never felt before.

"A child grows within you," he whispered, beaming. "Congratulations are in order."

I felt a little faint. "I - Thank you," I managed, as Oin bowed, and said, "If there is anything that I can get for your continued relief, please, let me know. Later I will send up some herbs and other healthful things that will ease you in the mornings. The prince will be overjoyed. Does he suspect as you do?"

I shook my head. "No, I don't think so."

"You think so?"

"I  _don't_  think so," I repeated, louder this time. "I will tell him, though."

"I should tell him?"

I shook my head vehemently. "No. No, I will."  
"Ahh." He nodded wisely. "Very good, my lady. Very good."

He helped me to sit up and I remained motionless on the edge of the bed for a moment, waiting for the world to settle around me. Oin watched me with a smile. "Alright now?"

"Yes, yes, I think," I murmured, standing as he gave me his hand. I gave him a smile.

"You ought not to exert yourself to much," he told me as he made his way to the door. "I do not know about human pregnancies, but dwarven pregnancies are a rare and precious thing. We would not want anything to happen to you or the bairn, so you must take good care of yourself."

I nodded.  _You and the bairn_. All day the words rang in my head, and I had a difficult time of not dropping my hand to my stomach to see if anything felt different yet. To Oin's practiced hand, it did, but I honestly cannot detect much more than a small amount of swelling.

Fili was finished much earlier than usual in the Hall of Kings, where they have been painstakingly cleaning up after the face-off with the dragon (I have heard fantastic tales, nothing more) and he came looking for me. I was in the kitchen, rummaging, more to take my mind off things than anything else. Oin had duly set aside some herbs and I was arranging them in bunches from the rafters, taking deep sniffs of their fragrant leaves and finding some to my taste, and some not so much. But he assured me certain combinations could work wonders upon my health.

"Sigrid." Fili smiled and came toward me, arms outstretched. I ran to him and he gave me an enormous hug about the waist, lifting me off my feet and spinning me about. When he finished, I was a little unsteady, and he laughed at my dizziness.

"Are you alright?" he chuckled, seeing that it did not pass as quickly as usual. I nodded.

"Of course. And you're done so early?" I saw that he was eying my work with curiosity.

"What's this?" he asked, taking a whiff of a certain herb nearby. "It smells like more of Oin's remedies."

I nodded. "Aye, and I'm just meddling. I've got nothing to do." I shrugged.

"I could fix that...?" Fili's eyes looked hopeful, and almost mischievous, like Kili's. "The falls?" I hesitated, then nodded.

"If only I had discovered this sooner, then we wouldn't have wasted so much time," Fili explained as we walked, smiling, and nodding at those we passed. It was so nice to be walking side by side with my husband.

"Wasted time?" I asked. "What are you talking of?"

"We should be spending more time down here," he whispered in my ear, his mustache braids bobbing against my cheek as I bent to catch his words. I laughed, and took his arm, my heart seeming to rise in my chest as I knew this would be the setting in which I should tell him.

The falls looked by day much as they did by night, so deep in the mountain were they. The torches struck shimmering orbs of light from the flying droplets, and shimmying from his coat and tunic, Fili plunged into the water, rising up with a great cry and shaking his streaming hair like a dog. I laughed, and watched him for a long moment, suddenly in awe of him. He was so perfect. And what I had to tell him, though it undoubtedly would make him happy, was suddenly caught in my throat like a cough.

"Coming in?" he asked, smiling and spreading his arms wide, water running in rivers down his stocky form. Valar, what a sight. Anyone who is reading this, forgive me. I do love my husband so.

I hesitated, and he came slopping up out of the water, and took my dry hands in his wet ones. "Going to make me throw you in?"

I shook my head, and said in a strange voice, "Fili, I need to tell you something."

His face grew serious, a mirror of my own, no doubt. "What is it?"

In spite of my good intentions, my eyes filled with tears. "I -" I stammered like an idiot. "I think -"

He took me in his arms, holding me close against him, wet though he was. I could feel the moisture seeping through my clothing, and I took a deep breath, breaking into a nervous laugh.

"What is it?" he asked at last. "Why are you acting so -"

"I don't know," I gasped. "I - I just wanted to tell you, that... that we are going to have a child."

His eyes were wide, looking back and forth quickly between both of mine.

"Really?" he breathed in awe. I nodded, a blush covering my face.

He took me in his arms again, and held me there tightly for some while. "Mahal, we have been blessed," he managed at long last, and then he drew back, kissing me deeply. When he stopped, his eyes held a strange light. "You - are you well?"

I grinned, and nodded. "Yes. Yes, fairly well. Not quite myself, but not unwell."

"Tell me what to do if you feel anything - anything at all that disturbs you." He looked around us quickly. "We should go - you will get a chill...?"

I laughed. "I don't think so. I want to get wet."

As soon as I slipped out of my dress, Fili regarded me with joy.

"What is it..." I murmured. "You make me feel strange."

"The mother of my child," he breathed. "Sigrid, the mother of my child." And kneeling before me, he took my hand and pressed it to his mouth. "You have my greatest respect."

My throat tightened. "Get up," I managed. "Get up, darling."

He pressed his head close to me, burying his face in my stomach, and pressing a fervent kiss there. To where our child was. Our child. Wrapping his wet arms around me, he gave me one last gentle hug, and then got to his feet.

"Come on, then," he said, his eyes alight. "Come, both of you."

We waded in the warm water, splashing playfully, and (since no one is ever there except us) touching each other nearly everywhere. Something about being in the water is so delightful, and the touch of his skin is even more thrilling when beaded with droplets and slick with wet. Oh dear, that sounds so sensual. I sometimes appall even myself. Oh well, no one will ever be reading this. Unless it be you, one day, my child, and then I hope you will forgive me for the great love I hold for your father.

Father. Fili is a father, just as I am a mother. I never thought of it this way, but I have been for some time, just as I will be even before the child comes into the world. I thought people became parents at the birth of a child. That is not true- not in the least.

Oh, Valar, protect the tiny seed of life within me, and let me not be as terrified when the time comes to welcome it into the world as I am now.


	38. Chapter 38

It has been some weeks since my last entry. So far, Fili and I have not told anyone. We plan to keep it a secret as long as possible, contrary to the usual custom, he tells me. We have made Oin swear to silence, as well as my maids, and though we have succeeded so far, Fili wears such a smile all the time that Kili teases him constantly to find it's cause.

Another of the dwarrow-maids has been carrying a child up until this time, and it has been nice to hear advice from her as to the things to expect and the things to beware of. It seems that they take the bearing of children very seriously, and by that I mean that expecting mothers are hardly permitted to do anything at all that might endanger their health or the health of the babe.

This day Oin has been kept busy with Esta (that is her name, and that is the best way I can think to spell it) as she began her pains last night, though the child was not expected for another three months. It seems that the dwarven women carry for a greater length of time than humans. I had not heard something in some hours, and rather feared to go to her without her leave, but at last I sent word and recieved reply that I could attend her if I wished.

Such frightful happenings. I had not witnessed such a thing ever in my life. The last experience I had with it aside from conversations at Ginna's was being sent outside when Mam was birthing Tilda. And none of those experiences are very assuring. Such a deal of blood, such a deal of pain and in the end, the babe was dead. The image of its tiny body lingers before my eyes still, almost beyond recognition as the being that it was. Esta and her husband are sick with grief, and Esta herself is still very weak.

I feel cold all over, and heavy, as if I cannot move. Such a thing is so tragic, so grievous that I don't know what to do with the feeling. I am filled with inexplicable terror that the same thing will happen to me, that I will be dealt the same fate, and what's worse, the innocent one who is growing within me. The one that is half of me, and half of him, and whom we both already love so dearly.

I had no words to say to her, nothing with which to comfort her. I felt that were I to open my mouth I would only make a fool of myself and make things worse. So I held her thick hand as she wept quiet tears, and attending to her in her time of weakness and continued bleeding gives me something to do. But I cannot shake this terrible feeling - this terrible fear that comes over me now that I know there is a child within my belly that is so helpless, and yet so valued. Esta looked forward with such great joy to the birth of her child, longer than human women wait, and yet, to have such an ending. We spoke by the hour together, I felt the child move within her. Now it is dead.

I have taken to crying at night, and though Fili does not know the details of Esta and her situation, I think he suspects my fear and holds me in his arms, singing to me as I once wished someone would do, in his deep language of mysterious words and strange sounds. It somehow comforts me, though again in the mornings when I am unwell I am often tempted to give in again. Fili is usually gone by the time I awake, but if he is still here, then he sits by my side, in quiet sympathy until I am myself again. I think it pains him to see me unwell, but I know it will pass, and it is not as wretched a price to pay. I only think of Esta and her misery.

I do not know how long it will be, and Oin tells me to be ready for anything. It will be at least nine cycles of the moon, as is the custom of human women, maybe longer, to account for the dwarven blood. I saw doubt in his face, as such things have never been done before, a child born half of one race, half of another. Surely Thorin, and Da and everyone would not have permitted it if it were to be dangerous... But then memory resurfaces of Thorin speaking of my early death, and Fili being freed. I admit, I have been quite gloomy today.


	39. Chapter 39

It was last night that Fili noticed. We were preparing for bed together, and he was more tired than usual, having worked late in the Hall of Kings, alongside all the others in raising the great tapestries to their place on the restored walls. I had come to see it, and it is indeed marvelous. Anyhow, I had slipped from my dress and stood only in my shift as Fili smoked calmly before the fire. I crossed the room to sit near him, and as I did so, his eyes's caught upon mine. He pulled his pipe from his mouth, and in a cloud of fragrant smoke, breathed:

"Sigrid - go back."

"Back where?" I was confused.

He gestured. "Back to where you were."

Obediently, I retraced my steps and stood before the dressing mirror whence I came, and turned to face him. He shook his head. "No - you were facing the mirror."

Bemused, I turned again, and regarded him. "Like this?"

His mouth was slightly agape and it curved into a wide smile. "Look at you," he said quietly. "Look at you."

I was, and I didn't see anything, not from the front. He set aside his pipe and rose, crossing the room in hurried steps. He reached out a warm hand and and placed it on my belly. Yes, it has begun to swell ever so slightly; I can see it when in my bath, but never through my clothing.

"You can see it, now" he said, his voice heavy with some nameless emotion. "Mahal, you can see it."

His strong hand against me filled me with warmth and happiness, and once again he knelt at my feet.

"Fili, stop, get up. You can't keep doing this," I told him tugging gently at his hair,and then kneeling before him, trying to see his face. "You are my master, my prince."

"And you are the mother of my child -" he choked, his eyes full as he looked up at me. "Sigrid, I don't know if you can understand, but - " I stroked the side of his face, calming him, my eyes meeting his when at last he looked up. "But you have my great,  _great_ repect."

"For being a woman and carrying a child?" I asked quietly, not sure if my ears were decieving me. But he simply nodded, leaning his head forward into my shoulder and filling my nostrils with the scent of him; sweat, and pipe, and everthing else that makes him who he is and what I love so much.

"We ought to tell," his voice came at last, barely more than a deep rumble within his chest. "It won't be long before others will notice too."

"Really?" I shook my head. "I'm not ready. I won't know what to say."

His shoulders shook with quiet laughter. "What about 'we are expecting a child'?"

I swatted him playfully. "You can say it then."

He nodded soberly. "I will. We have to tell Thorin, and then he will announce it."

"Will he be pleased?" I asked in a small voice. Fili hesitated.

"I do not know if he was anticipating a child from this union. After all, we are different races." His jaw shifted, bristling his beard. "But it is so, and will serve to further bind us together, beyond your life, whatever he may say."

I pray that he is right. I am nervous, as we will tell Thorin tomorrow. But Fili slumbers beside me, his breathing filling in the darkness, a single candle illumining this book and his hand, heavy upon me as he sleeps.


	40. Chapter 40

Today we told Thorin, and Kili. They were preparing to go to the Hall of Kings and view the progress there, but Fili insisted that we catch them before this, and so we went early to the corridor of chambers that are used by the other royal heirs. Fili held my hand the whole time, and it was all he could to not to stop and caress my still small belly through my gown as we walked. I had to play-glare at him, and hiss, "Stop it, or there will be no announcement."

He smiled childishly, and gave my hand a squeeze. "Uncle will be happy, I am sure." But I was not so certain.

Stopping before a great door, and rapping, we heard Thorin call from within.

"Who is it?"

"Fili," my husband said through the wood. "And Lady Sigrid. May we have a word?"

The door opened to reveal Thorin, clad in his undertunic and casual robe, looking nearly ready for the day, but not quite awake.

"Come in," he bade us, giving me a slight nod. Just then, a door further along the hall banged, and Kili's voice was heard.

"Fili!" he greeted with a wide smile. "Sigrid! How are you?"

"Kili, your brother wishes a word with me, so please –"'

"No, no..." Fili hastened to add. "Kili must come too. This is for his ears as well."

Nodding, Kili joined us in Thorin's chamber, and folding his arms, the king under the mountain regarded us with a forbidding stare. I suppose it does not disconcert his nephews, their being used to him and all, but I still find him a little intimidating. Thorin observed that my hand was still within Fili's.

"Is something amiss?" he inquired, looking from me to him, and then from him to me. Kili helped himself to a seat upon one of the carven chairs and watched us eagerly. I gave him a small smile, and his eyes widened. I think he knew then.

"No, not at all." Fili took a deep breath, and released my hand, going to his uncle and putting both hands on his shoulders, meeting Thorin's gaze. "Sigrid carries a child."

I exhaled almost without meaning to, and Kili leapt to his feet as Thorin's face was flooded with a strange mixture of relief and concern.

"Sister!" Kili beamed. "Congratulations are in order!"

I nodded, and in reply to Thorin's demand as to if it were certain, said, "Yes – Oin examined me a small time back, and said it was as I suspected."

"Why did you not tell me at once?" Thorin asked, giving a small smile. "This calls for celebration."

Fili's eyes were grave. "Truly, Thorin?" I heard him ask in a low voice. "You are truly pleased?"

Thorin met his eyes steadily, and then nodded. "Yes. Your love for each other is great, and you deserve another measure added to your happiness."

Without knowing what I was about, or if it were proper, or even why I was doing it really, unless it be that I just felt like it, I gave Thorin a hug. He wrapped his broad arms about me briefly, and then bade me, "Take care of yourself, and the small one within you. Now the throne is sure three times over."

It took me a moment to realize – the throne had been assured three times before, from Thorin, to Fili, to Kili... Oh. Then I saw that this child edged Kili out of the succession altogether. I wondered if this would have any effect on him, and turned to see him beaming just as widely as before.

"Fili's child will rule after him, and that takes all burden of responsibility from my shoulders," he said to me, after taking my hand and giving it a joyous salute with his lips. "I'm to Mirkwood, then," he whispered, and I laughed.

"The announcement must be made at once," Thorin said, seeming to blame Fili for the delay. "How long until the child comes?"

I shook my head. "I – no one knows."

Thorin muttered something under his breath, and Fili put a hand on his shoulder. "We'll manage. I will take the utmost care of her –"

"Please, it's not a dreadful malady. Women have done it for years," I broke in, but the dwarves' faces looked shocked. Of course. This was a rarity for them.

"Perhaps to you, lass, but not here," Fili said, smiling at me. I nodded.

"Of course," I murmured.

Kili sidled up beside me and said in a low voice, "Was I right, then? When we were sparring?"

I shook my head. "I don't know, I have not calculated. But you may have been."

He smirked. "One cannot yet see it through your gown, but soon it will be unmistakable!" He elbowed me.

A blush covered my face, "Thanks, brother," I muttered, "I know."

Kili laughed to hear me call him brother, and then Thorin raised his voice.

"Before work begins this day, accompany us to the Hall of Kings. We will make the proclamation from there, and send out messengers after that, to our kin in the hills and across the kingdom."

I took in my breath, and all gazes flew to mine. I had not realized it yet, and the thought struck me as a blow.

"My kin," I said. "My kin must know as well."  
"And they will," Fili said warmly. "They must come at once, and visit. We will send an escort to Esgaroth, some to relieve the workers there, and those at the site can accompany Bard and his family here."

Thorin nodded. "It is a good plan."

And so we stood before all the assembled dwarves in Erebor, as Thorin made the announcement in their language that a child had come of the union between Fili, heir of Durin, and Sigrid, the lady of the lake. The applause and cheering was great, and I have been a little overwhelmed with good wishes and offers of aid the entire rest of the day.

But what I am most excited about, aside from the fact that I have become a mother, is that my own family will be here soon.


	41. Chapter 41

Any day now. Da and Bain and Tilda will be here any day. It has been nearly a month since the proclamation first went out, but it has taken that long to reach Esgaroth, and for word to come that their party is now traveling toward the mountain. It seems almost overnight my belly has become a noticeable lump, firmer than the initial swelling, and it sometimes can be seen through my gown if it drapes just right. I get smiles and nods everywhere I go, even more than before. It was embarrassing at first, but thinking on it, I realize at last how few dwarven children there really are, and how rare a pregnancy must be to a people who have twice as many men as women, and that not every woman marries and can bear a child.

At night Fili is very gentle, and talks to our baby in Khuzdul. I wonder if it is true that the tiny thing can really hear from deep within me. Fili seems to think so, and places great stock in it. Kili also, corners me regularly and plies me with curious questions, some of which I can answer within the bounds of propriety, and some which I cannot. He seems to find it immensely interesting, and I can't say I blame him. It is extremely fascinating to me as well.

The illness has mostly passed, for which I am grateful, but I find that I am often unexplainably dizzy and sometimes feel faint at the slightest exertion. Oin assures me that this too, will pass, and I am glad.

I have gone to see Esta today, to see how she is doing. She still stays in a darkened room, mourning, and recovering, and it strikes a pang in my heart to see how pale and drooping she looks. With silent tears, she asked me to sit by her side as she put her hand to my belly, feeling the fullness there, and indulging in a bit more grief for her lost little one.

"It seems to go so fast," she told me. "You are thin, but still, it seems to go so fast."

I suppose that it would take longer to show upon a dwarven woman, as they are much thicker and also they carry for much longer. It seems to strangely comfort her and pain her to be in my presence, but after long thought, and a few talks, I think it does more good than harm, so I have taken to sitting with her by the hour, and we chat. Poor, poor Esta. I am still afraid, though I will not speak of it to her, of the same fate befalling me, and my little one.  _My little one._ I mothered Tilda and Bain, but they were never mine. Now I am truly a mother. It is terrifying and exciting all at once. It is a comfort to me that once again Fili feels the same as I do. We truly to have the same heart.

"Sigrid," he murmured to me last night, and at first I paid him no heed, my name being one of the only things I can make out in his strings of Khuzdul. But when he continued in Westron, "Do you ever feel like you aren't ready?"

Then I knew; I didn't need to ask him what for. "Aye," I murmured. "Every day."

Sitting up, he pushed his hair back over his shoulders. "I have no fears that you will be a perfect mother." He looked away, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, and making the kind lines by his eyes. "I admit, I used to think of this when I would see you with your siblings. What a fine mother you would make... Mother to my children."

I blushed and rolled over, covering my face. He poked me gently. "This embarrasses you?"

"Everything embarrasses me," I murmured into the pillow, still laughing quietly. "Oh, Mahal."

Fili grimaced. "My swearing has been rubbing off on you. I hope you don't take up smoking a pipe now."  
I sat up, brushing my hair out of my face, and shaking my head, smiling. "Nay. I wouldn't want to do that. I'll leave that to you."

"But – are you afraid … at all?" Fili asked again, sobering. "I should hate to feel that I am the only coward when confronted with the truth that I am responsible now for a wife  _and_ a child."

"The responsibility does not worry me..." I began slowly, idly tracing a finger down my barely-distended belly. "I have lived my entire life with great responsibility." I met his eyes. "As have you."  
He nodded. "But nothing like this."

"Exactly. Nothing like this. It will be... an adventure," I finished lamely, and Fili burst into laughter, throwing himself down beside me and wrapping me in his arms, his beard rough against my neck as he continued to laugh.

"That's something I love about you, lass," he said finally, regarding me happily. "Never fearing the future, thinking of it as an adventure to accomplish when we get there."

I grinned. "Valar, now I feel as if I ought to say something nice to you," I said, and he covered my lips with a finger, shaking his head. "Not this time." And then he kissed me. My child, your father is the best person I have ever known, man, dwarf, or elf. And I cannot wait for you to meet him.


	42. Chapter 42

Da and Bain and Tilda and a great many other dwarves arrived today. There was a deal of crying and embracing, and exclaiming and talking so quickly that I think I will never remember all that was said. I picked out Da first among the group approaching the great entrance before the mountain. He looks much the same, only a bit worn, and wiser. His hair has greyed somewhat more, but it becomes him. He is handsome as ever, and I am so proud to think of the people that no doubt love him in Esgaroth.  _My da._ He hurried through the crowds and smiled like the sun upon me, before wrapping me in his arms.

"Sigrid," he whispered. "Sigrid, Sigrid, Sigrid..."

"It's so good to see you, oh, I have missed you," I whispered back, feeling like crying, but trying very hard not to. Da pulled back.

"And such news..." His eyes descended down my form, and lingered at my center. "I can hardly believe it."

"Nor I," I admitted, just then, catching sight of Bain. "But I am very happy."

Bain bounded up, tall, and looking more like Da than I had ever imagined.

"Sigrid!" he exclaimed, stopping short. "So good to see you at last! We have missed you so." He extended his hand awkwardly to take mine, but I ran forward and gave him a tight hug. "Don't be silly," I murmured into his chest, for he is much taller than I am now.

"Are you well?" he asked, shifting from foot to foot after I released him, and seeming to barely dare a glance toward my belly to see if any evidence there showed.

I nodded. "I am. Life here is very good. But tell me of Esgaroth – how is it coming?"

"Tilda has such sketches to show you – I won't spoil it. But the work is going most remarkably well."

I had been searching even while I spoke to Da and Bain for Tilda among the people, but had not sighted her. Near the great pile of provisions and other such brought for the journey, I sighted a tall girl rummaging, and when she turned, I caught my breath. It was her.

She near thirteen now, and has gotten so pretty. She looks more like Mam than even I do, I think; with her hair pinned up and wearing a long dress that covers the tops of her shoes, she looks so old and it made my throat ache to think what I was missing. Her eyes lit up and she hurried toward me, her gracelessness belying her appearance, calling, "Sigrid!"

She ran into my arms, and I held her tight, the tears coming at last. We rocked back and forth, both crying shamelessly until at last she pulled her head from my shoulder and wiped her face. "Oh, Sigrid, I have missed you so much!"

"And I you, Tilda," I told her, and took the liberty of remarking on her appearance. "You are so tall now, and so pretty..." She blushed, and said, "I was going to say the same of you. Your dress is beautiful again. And..." she trailed off, her eyes bright. "And you are really going to have a baby?"

I nodded, and she squealed and ran into my arms again, suddenly drawing back and stammering, "I'm sorry, I didn't think –"

"Of what, dear?" I laughed. "You won't hurt me."

She allowed her gaze to linger on my form, and said quietly, "You don't really look that different, but you feel different."

I grinned. "It has only been three months."

Tilda nodded, and said, producing the handfuls of paper, "Look at how far the reconstruction has come."

As we perused the papers standing together in the noisy hall, I asked, "How does being the lady of the lake suit you?"

She nodded. "Well, I think. I have learned to cook ever so much better than before, and I like to help everyone with their work."

I beamed. "Good girl. I'm sorry that I didn't teach you more. I did not really expect to go away as I did."

The drawings are truly remarkable, and show a city slowly rising to the sky in splendor and greatness. It will be something to remember in times to come to be certain.

Dad and Bain were taken to a chamber which they will share, and Tilda was told that she could share my chamber with me for the duration of their stay. At first I wasn't sure if Fili would acquiesce, but he declared that he had, in fact, been missing his brother and would spend the week with him, and so we are all happy, I think.

Tilda and I have walked the halls together, talking faster than the river runs, and I at last showed her one of my favorite places, a window seat near the entrance which looks out over the valley and is quite private and comfortable.

"I need to sit for a minute," I told her, in replies to her eager questions as to what was in the next hall, and she obliged, sitting next to me and looking both curious and shy at the same time.

"What is it like... being married?" she asked at last, and I took her hand.

"It's wonderful."  
She rolled her eyes. "Is that all?"

I laughed. This was the Tilda I remembered. "It is a funny combination of two things – one, of having another self, someone who understands me so deeply and thinks as I do, but in a different body, and two, of loving him no matter what, and learning the way he feels and acts even though I don't always understand."

Tilda was listening raptly, and then shook her head. "I don't think I ever want to be married, really."

This interested me. "Why not?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, I just think that there aren't any men that I should like well enough to spend all my time with."

I laughed. "I thought the same thing."

"But you changed?"

"Aye, I did."

Tilda shrugged again. "I don't know. I think that I might never marry and just rule Esgaroth with Da and Bain."

I squeezed her hand. "You can do that."

Supper was taken with everyone in the great hall, and it was quite a celebration. I spoke to Da all through supper, and he spoke to Fili a great deal. They seemed to be getting along quite well, and this pleases me. It is likely good for Da to get away from the work of rebuilding and relax here after his journey.

Tilda is in awe of my chamber. When I undressed for bed and she did the same, climbing in beside me, she asked about the bronze that covers the ceiling above us.

"That is so we can make sure our hair is not mussed in the night," I told her soberly, and then we both burst out laughing. Curling up together like two cats, I smiled happily to be sleeping with Tilda once again.

"Sigrid," Tilda asked after a long silence, rolling over in my arms, and brushing her hair back. "When I'm against you, I can sort of feel..." She trailed off, and I smiled.

"You can feel the the baby in me?"

She nodded. "Does it move?"

"If it does I can't feel it yet."

"Can I –" she stopped short, and smiled, but she was not looking at my face.

"Of course."

I flopped over on my back, and propped up on one elbow, Tilda gingerly touched me. I smiled at her, and encouraged, she spread her palm upon my stomach, her eyes widening.

"It's so small still," she said, and I laughed.

"Of course. But it will grow. It already is." I ran a hand down my form, highlighting the change. "It didn't stick out quite like this before."

Tilda put her hand on my belly once again, and moved her hand back and forth, rubbing soothingly, feeling the sides, the front, and just barely below.

"That is so interesting," she said at last, and I have to agree with her. She flopped back down. "Maybe I want to get married after all."

I hugged her close, and at her request, we reversed positions. Instead of us both lying on our sides together, Tilda in front of me and curled against my body, she wrapped her arms around me from behind, and laced her fingers together over my stomach.

"Is that alright?" she asked, her breath tickling the back of my neck, and I nodded.

"Of course, dear."

I was nearly asleep, when my eyes flew open at the tiny sensation inside of me. I could hear Tilda take in her breath as well as she was still awake.

"Tilda –" I began, a bit breathlessly, but she hushed me. Then it came again, from deep within me. A tiny stirring, almost like a bubble that rose to the surface beneath the skin.

"The baby..." Tilda breathed, and I asked her quickly, "Did you feel that?"

She nodded, her head rubbing on the pillow. "It moved."

"Aye..." I am still marveling. "Aye, it did."

Tilda is thrilled that she was the first to feel it, and cannot wait to tell Fili on the morrow. I am still a little dizzy with happiness, for it has come again a few more times – the tiny stirrings of a life inside me. I can hardly believe it. It is so stupid to say this now, but I think I am finally starting to understand the love that I feel for this tiny one.

Tilda is sleeping soundly, I think, or at least she seems to. But I feel that I can't sleep a wink for some reason.


	43. Chapter 43

Fili was so pleased. So pleased, and so was I. This was how it happened. I told Tilda that I wanted to tell him, and so please not to spoil the surprise. She insisted on coming with me (and I told her she could tell Kili, so as soon as they encountered each other they started whispering like thieves in the shadows and laughing most distractingly). Together the three of us went to the Hall of Kings, and there watched as Fili worked for a while longer without him noticing us. He was wielding a chisel, doing some of the finer work to speed it toward completion.

At last Kili could wait no longer and cleared his throat noisily. Fili looked up and saw us standing there, and rose, coming toward us, his voice echoing in the great chamber and causing the other workers to look up from their tasks.

"Sigrid!" He greeted me with a kiss and both Tilda and Kili snickered. I glared at them.

"Can't you two behave?"

Tilda nodded at the same time Kili shook his head.

"Is all well?" Fili inquired, looking over his shoulder, as the others saw him and pretended they were not eavesdropping, looking very intent on their work.

"Sigrid has something to tell you," Tilda said, shifting from foot to foot in excitement. Though she is now looking more and more like a young lady she still hasn't grown out of her childish ways, and I remember well what it was like to be her age. Dear me, how old and grave that makes me feel!

"Should we go somewhere else?" Fili asked me in a low voice, and Kili shook his head, leaning in close.

"No. Tell him now, Sigrid."

"Well, I – Tilda..." I blundered, and Fili's eyes searched mine, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Yes?"

"Last night I felt – Tilda felt – we both felt the babe move at last."

Fili broke into a wide smile. "Really?" He seized my hand, and tugged me aside from the others. "Really? You felt it move?"

I nodded, grinning like an idiot. "I have felt it a few more times since, but it is very small, and hard to feel if you're not thinking about it."

"I shall think about it," Fili murmured, pressing a hand to my stomach through my gown, and holding me close to him. Not to disappoint him, I hurried, "I don't think you will feel anything now. It is... so tiny. I... barely knew what it was," I finished, blushing.

"But I did!" Tilda crowed. Kili shushed her.

"Lass, leave them alone," he scolded, drawing his eyebrows down in a very good imitation of Thorin. "They are having a  _moment_."

"Sigrid and I had a  _moment_  last night," Tilda retorted, tossing her head. "And it was very good."

"Oh, could I tell you of all the moments Fili and I have had..." Kili began, but a box on the ear from his brother silenced him quickly.

"That's no way to behave!" Kili complained, rubbing his pate. "What an example you'll be to your child!"

"I'll see that he never goes near you," Fili growled playfully. "Or we'll never have a moment's peace."

"I wonder what you two were like when you were younger..." I mused. "Your poor mother."

Kili snorted. "Oh, you don't want to know. Fili gave all kinds of trouble."

Fili aimed another box toward him; Tilda seemed to be enjoying this immensely. "Oh,  _I_ caused the trouble? Who was it that got hung upon the fence and tore his new tunic straight up the back? Who was it that hid the pile of acorns beneath the bed until we discovered they were crawling with insects? Who was it that swore the ice was thick enough until we both almost plunged to our deaths? Who was it that promised he would be ever so careful and then ended up breaking uncle's best–"

"Alright, alright, point made, I caused some trouble too," Kili declared.

"Mahal, I did nothing but try to keep you alive from day to day," Fili growled. He turned back to me. "Come to me later," he said in a low voice. "Or send Tilda to sleep with... Bain." He waved a hand. "And let me come to you."

Sheepishly, I lifted my face and said to Tilda, "Tilda, dear, do you mind sleeping with Da and Bain tonight?"

"You mean you're sending me away?" She frowned. "I suppose. I could stay with Kili?"

He grimaced, and shook his head. "I snore. Like a bear. Like a dragon!"

Fili chuckled. "He does."

"You don't mind, dear?"

And of course, sweet Tilda shook her head. And so I once again slept with my husband. He came to me late, after the torches were lit, and though he looked tired, his eyes were alight as I stirred the fire to greater warmth and turned to greet him.

"How was everything?" I asked politely.

"Busy. But we are making great progress." He groaned loudly as he stretched his arms and shed his outer clothing into a heap upon the floor. "But I am well now that I am with you."  
I giggled as he approached and drew me within his arms. "You smell of metal and fragmented stone."

"Hmph, I wonder why," he said into my shoulder, his hands going to and fro over my back. I arched into his touch, my front pushing against his chest, and he laughed quietly, looking up at me.

"Have you felt–"

I nodded, smiling. "Just once more. Ever so small, but I couldn't feel it with my hands."

"Undress, then," he commanded, and I raised my eyebrows.

"Yes, my lord..?"

He hurriedly helped me obey, and when I stood only in my shift, he led me to a seat by the fire, and knelt before me, pressing his hand to my belly.

"It grows daily," he smiled, giving it a tiny pat. "So quickly, it seems."

"Everyone says that," I pointed out. "It must be that things progress much quicker for the children of men." I laughed, nervously, I'll grant. "But what do I know."

"More than I," Fili added, adjusting his hand to another spot against me. Then it came, a tiny flutter from within, just a faint vibration that could be felt through the skin. Fili's gaze flew to mine.

"Was that –?"

I nodded. "Aye."

Fili shifted closer, switching hands. "So small..." he murmured. "Yet, a life."

I nodded, my throat aching, and my eyes beginning to fill. Drooping my head forward, I rested it upon his head, and he let out a deep sigh, an echo of my heart.

"It is a miracle," he whispered. I could not have said it better myself.


	44. Chapter 44

It renews in me the wonder of Erebor to see Bain and Tilda and Da's reaction to this place. It really is wondrous, and though I have not seen much of Bain aside from at meals in the great hall, as he has been kept busy sparring and generally entertaining and being entertained by the dwarven warriors, Da and I spent nearly the whole day together.

The weather being a bit warmer, we ventured outside, and it felt good to once again have the sun upon my skin and the wind in my hair. It may be unusual for the mountain-dwellers that have become my people to crave this feeling, but I have been in the open air nearly all my life, and developed even more of a taste for it after Laketown burned and we lived beside the lake.

Da and I walked the great descent from the entrance to the mountain, and were among the trees the line the path through the valley during the heat of the day. I had risen early and gone to the kitchens, preparing a luncheon for us and packing it so that we would not have to return for hunger.

It was just like nothing had happened at all, like I had asked to accompany him on one of his trips on the barge to the shore to walk in the woods at the mouth of the River Running. Only the great shadow of the mountain behind us, the stiff wind that reminded us winter is never far away in these parts, and the occasional wave of tiny flutters that spread through my center, reminding me of the child I carried marked the passing of time.

We were not far from the mouth of the mountain when I stopped, setting down the satchel, and began to quickly pull the pins from my hair, raking the braids and coils free with my fingers. Da watched with a smile on his face.

"Better?" he asked when I turned to him, my hair loose, and nodded happily. The stirring wind blew cold in my face though the sun was warm, and I pushed the stray strands back. Da took my hand in his and gave it a squeeze as I picked up the satchel once again and we continued to walk.

"Shall I carry that?" Da asked presently, and I obligingly passed it off to him, more to save from having to argue than because it really troubled me. I took in a deep breath of the crisp air, and let it out, my hand dropping without my really meaning to, to my belly. Da's gaze followed my hand.

"Are you well?"

I tried not to feel sheepish, and at least I think my face did not betray me this time. "Aye," I said quickly. "Just habit."

"Forgive me if it is not my place to say anymore..." Da began slowly, his eyes full of fondness. "But it is very becoming."

The blush did come then, and I let go of Da's hand to cover my face with my arm, stopping in our walk and laughing in a silly way.

"Still not grown out of it?" Da teased, something he does not do often, but it makes me happy when he does. Valar, I have missed him. I love him so.

I shook my head. "As changeable as ever," I said, reviling my tell-tale complexion with a brief scowl. "Sometimes I feel so foolish. I wonder if that will ever go away."

"Do you feel this around your husband?" Da asked, carefully, it seemed, of prying. It is so strange to hear my father tiptoe around things which concern me when he used to know me almost better than anyone in the world, save maybe Tilda.

"Aye, sometimes, but it is not unpleasant," I admitted. "It is just because his teasing usually gets me right where – well, right where the truth is..."

Da chuckled. "You mother used to be like that."

"Really?"

"Aye. I was the quiet one, the embarrassed one, if you will."  
I can't imagine. This is a side of Dad I never envisioned before.

"And Mam was... excitable?"

"Like Tilda. You remind me of some sides of her, and she does the rest. When Tilda runs to me, peppering me with questions, begging to be allowed to accompany me or to know this and such from someone I saw at the work sites, I see your mother's enthusiasm."

"What of Bain?"

"In Bain I see myself. Meaning well, but sometimes trying too hard." Dad smiled. "And in you I see your mother also, though her gentler side."

I smiled slightly – wondering how this would go. People think me so gentle, say I am so domestic and faithful, which of course, if I can say without seeming proud, I am. I have done scarcely anything except domestic tasks and things relating until this very year, but as much as I love it, I hate to feel limited by it, stereotyped, I suppose. As if that were a kinder way of saying I cannot do more. I don't know, but it seems to me to take no particular intelligence to cook or clean. And though I would not consider myself a restless person, or an discontented one, my new life has shown me just how little I know, and I feel almost as if I could do anything I set my mind to. It's just that in the past I had to set my mind to keeping house and going to market. Strange, I should be reveling in the idea of having my own little one to mother now, but I do feel a little irritable sometimes, at the fact that I feel many people do not see beyond my domesticity.

Anyhow, a great long ramble, back to what Da was saying. I was so happy, because he did not stop with the "useful and helpful and faithful" stigma.

"She was bright, and intelligent, and used her wits to devise cleverer ways of living, whether it be cooking something delicious and healthful from the meager amounts of things I would bring home, or whether it be helping me arrange things in the wharf room so I could find what I needed. She could have done much, been a great woman. And yet she was great, though her greatness was known only to me. You are like that, but your fortunes permit you to go further. How far I cannot say, only your mind and spirit can determine that."

Curse my weakness, I gave him a great embrace and cried a little on his shoulder for that.

"You understand," I managed. "I didn't think anyone did."

"Does not Fili?" he asked gently, wrapping his arms around me, and rubbing my back in a soothing way.

"Aye, but sometimes I think he thinks I am  _too_ great,  _too_ intelligent... I fear to disappoint him by letting on I am actually quite ordinary."

"You are not ordinary," Da said firmly. "You are anything but. The blood of Girion and a thousand other strong brave people runs in your veins, and even now, you are passing it on to one who will live after you and carry on in whatever you rear him to love, to fight for. This is not the end for your opportunities – but the beginning."

"Do you think I will be a good mother?" I asked, sniffling, and curling my arms around the backs of his shoulders, rubbing my fingers up and down in the thick nap of his coat.

"Aye," he said quietly. "Aye, I do."

"If it is a boy we must name it for you..." I murmured against him, and he laughed softly.

"It will be up to your husband."

"I know." I leaned back to see his face. "I love you, Da,"

"Oh, darling." He hugged me again, albeit lightly, and then stepped back, brushing his hand briefly down my cheek. "Tell me if you tire."

And we walked on, until we came to a clearing full of odd rocks, looking as if a giant had gotten his teeth knocked out there years ago. Dear me, what a disgusting description, but that is what came to mind when I saw it. Clambering upon one of them which had been warmed by the sun, I set to spreading out the things I had packed while Dad went to the stream which flowed from beneath the mountain and circled back near us, filling the cups I had brought with clear water, and returning soon through the woods, humming as he went.

It was the tune that I sang long ago to Tilda when telling her about Mam, and when I caught his eye, I sang the words under my breath.

"'Then drink, men, drink,

And see you do not spill,

For if you do, you shall drink two,

It is our master's will..."

I broke into laughter as my voice gave an unwinsome squeak, and I took a grateful sip of water, adding, "I should have taken a drink beforehand, then my throat wouldn't have been so dry!"

Dad took a few drinks in silence, and then helped himself to the plain bread and cheese that I had brought.

"Is this what you normally eat here?" he inquired, after I did the same, and we munched in silence for a while.

I shook my head. "Nay, it is usually more like what we have at supper in the halls. Great amounts of meat served with everything imaginable, though I am quite happy with plainer food."

"Then you fit this feast to my taste, as well," Da smiled, and I sighed happily, basking in the sun like a turtle on a rock. Having eaten my fill and setting the remainder aside to pack up later, I tucked my skirt up about my legs and shifted on the rock so that I could lay on my back, staring up at the tree tops above us.

Da did the same, and side by side we simply enjoyed each other's presence for a long time. At last, Da spoke.

"I feel there is so much yet unsaid, so much that we should be telling each other, but now..." He trailed off and exhaled.

"Aye," I agreed. "It is as if when we are apart I am saving up things to tell you when we meet again, but then I see you and –" I groped for words. "It's as if I realize that is not our life any more, that we will never fully catch up, and so it's not worth it to try. That sounds so terribly sad. But, rather, we should just enjoy each other... now."

Dad was silent for a long while, and then he sat up, taking my hand in his. "You're right, Sigrid. But there is something I must ask you."

I turned my head to regard him.

"Are you quite happy here? You have a brave face and a good disposition – but are you happy?"

I did not hesitate, but nodded at once. "Aye, I am. I truly am."

"Then I am happier for it." Dad winced, and sat up, rubbing the backs of his shoulders. "This isn't very comfortable, are you comfortable?"

I showed him the hollow which fitted the lines of my back in which I laid, and he grimaced, standing, and stretching.

"Must you return soon?"

Getting to my feet, I nodded. "So much time was spent just getting here that we cannot stay." I grinned. "The sun sets early upon this side of the mountain, and it will be getting colder."

Together we packed the satchel and returned, arm in arm, chatting all the way. Just within the great hall, Dad turned to me.

"Embrace me one last time, we leave on the morrow," he told me.

I was surprised. "So soon?"

"Aye. There is work to be done that will not wait. But I am glad for you, and for Fili, and it has been wonderful to be in your presence again at last."

I hugged him close, the familiarity of our height difference flooding my memory after so many times of feeling Fili's shorter stature against me.

"Take care of yourself, and your little one," Dad said, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. "And send word to me when I become a grandfather."

"I will," I smiled through my tears, and then we parted ways, the torches illumining our paths back to the chambers. More tomorrow.


	45. Chapter 45

Sadly, Da and Bain and Tilda have left today. Fili and Da talked for a long while this morning, and I am glad they get on so well. The two men I love most in the world have more in common that I would have at first thought, and for that I am glad. Kili wished to go with them, but Thorin forbade it, I think because he suspected Kili's intent to to try and venture up river to Mirkwood, if he could have managed it without losing his head in the process. For once, I agree with Thorin. I hope that Lady Tauriel and Kili can be together some day, but for now, I see it as nearly impossible.

I watched my famiy depart, as before, but this time it was without tears. I am growing stronger, then. When bidding goodbye to Tilda, she kissed my cheek, and then bent, kissing my belly through my gown.

"Silly lass," I told her, but I was happy nonetheless. She has such a pleasing affectionate way about her, and though Bain colored at seeing her do this, I gave him such a crushing hug that I think he was consoled from his embarrassment.

"Keep good watch of them," I told him in his ear. "Don't let Tilda do anything too foolish."

"Oh you know me," he said, his eyes sparkling.

"Aye – you'll be doing it with her," I grumbled. "If you do see Lady Tauriel, tell her that I send my greetings."

He nodded. "Certainly. Tell us when the baby is born..." He trailed off, coloring a little. "I'd – I'd just like to know."  
"Of course." I smiled. "It will be a while though – you may come back before then."

Bain shook his head. "I doubt it. But send word... all the same."

I stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek, and he tweaked my ear.

"Send word."

"I will."  
"I'm counting on it. I am going to be an uncle."

"Aye, I know." I leaned in once more. "But be a nicer uncle than Thorin, dear..."

He laughed outright, and then turned, shouldering a pack.

"Goodbye, Sigrid."

"Goodbye, Bain. Travel safely."

"Aye."

I already bade goodbye to Dad, so after a parting hug to Tilda, who pressed something into my hand before scampering off to join the others, I stood and waved until they were out of sight. Opening my hand, I beheld a small square of woven cloth, upon it rough stitching that I recognized. It was something I had made when I was very young, and given it to Tilda as a gift. I told her it was a blanket for her baby, her doll with a great amount of red yarn hair that she loved. Dear soul. What a kind thought. I will certainly keep it for my child.

Bain set up a shout when they reached the base of the descent, but I could not make out what he said. Kili, who was standing with us laughed, and Fili turned to him.

"What?"

"I was teaching him some Khuzdul. I see he is putting it to use."  
"What was it?" I inquired.

Kili shuffled his feet, and then grinned. " I couldn't make it all out, but I think it was  _a_ _chùshôm ganagifi ughlekh ya ghureg, nidif binghure._ "

Fili rolled his eyes.

"What is it? What does that mean?" I asked.

"Worries go down better with ale than without," Fili said, and I broke into astonished laughter.

"What are you teaching him!" I exclaimed once I caught my breath. Suddenly, gaining an idea, I turned to Fili. "Teach me?"

He shook his head. "It would take years to master."

"I want to learn. Just a few phrases."

He laughed, and took my hand, giving it a firm pressure. "You'd pronounce it wrong. The tongues of men do not do well with the dwarvish language."

"Bain seems to be having no trouble," I retorted. Kili winced.

"I'll leave you two to your row, I have other things to do," he said, beginning to scamper off. Fili aimed a swat at him, but Kili was already out of reach.

"You're a son of our father," Fili called after him "But otherwise, you're a shameless creature!"

But now a question more pressing than that of learning Khuzdul came to me. I brought it up later as we were undressing for bed.

"Fili –" I began. He was splashing in the basin and did not hear me, but after he buried his face in the towel and made a funny noise (as he always does- the noise of a dog when he has hold of something in his teeth and won't let it go) he lifted it and regarded me.

"Aye?"

"You have never spoken of your father before this. I have heard you speak of your mother, Thorin's sister, but never your father."

I was aware that this may be a sensitive topic for him, and held my breath as I awaited reply.

"Aye, I haven't," he said, dropping into his seat by the fire with a loud sigh, and lighting his pipe. "Why?"

"I – is he dead?"  
He nodded. "He was killed in battle. It nearly ruined Thorin. They were close, as Kili and I are."

"I am sorry," I said quietly. "I just – I wondered, but that was probably rude of me."

He shrugged, but I could see in his eyes that he lingered on the thought.

"Shall we go to the falls again?" I asked at last, trying to rectify the damage my interrogating had done. "Tonight, or tomorrow?"

His eyes met mine. "You wish it? I didn't want to tire you."

I shook my head. "I am not tired."

Fondly, he placed his hand upon my stomach, and murmured, "A true child of mine, well-behaved, and causing his mother no trouble."  
I snorted. "Say that about the first few cycles of the moon."

He grinned. "Or some months from now when it has grown large and strong and gives you no peace..."  
"How come you to know so much of this?" I teased. "You sound wiser than I do."

His blue eyes were wide and innocent, and he took a long draw upon his pipe before replying, "I was nine years old when Kili was born. I remember."

"So – to the falls?"

"Aye!" He got to his feet, and I brushed my hands over his shoulders as he stood. They are solid, and broad, and feel as if they could bear the weight of most anything. "In that dress?" he queried, appraising me.

"I'll shed it when we get there. I don't feel like running through the halls half-naked this time..."

"Shed it now..." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my neck, the cold beads of his mustache braids leaving a light print there.

"Impatient," I murmured, even while leaning into his touch. Well, we ended up on the bed, and though we spoke periodically of the falls between kisses, we did not make it there. Nevertheless, it was a very satisfying night.


	46. Chapter 46

It has been a few days, a few distressing, terribly busy days. The day after my last entry began quite normally, but quickly turned bad when one of my maids came rushing in rather soon after Fili had gone to the Hall of Kings with a pale face.

"What is it?" I asked her, seeing her lingering in the doorway, a large wad of her skirt bunched between both her hands.

"My lady," she began, nearly stuttering over her Westron in terror, "My lady – there –" She jammed again, and I rose, alarm filling my whole body and making me feel cold all over.

"What is it?" I demanded again, seizing her hands and forcing her to drop her skirts. "Has something happened?"

"Aye, my lady – it's the prince..." she managed, and I could feel the blood drain from my face.

"What?" I asked in a whisper.

"He fell a great height –"

"Valar..." I breathed, grasping her arms to steady myself. "Take me to him."

"I was told only to –"  
"Take me to him!"

We ran pell-mell through the halls, and I could feel my breath coming in short ragged gasps, my chest beginning to burn and my feet hitting the floor in uneven patterns. Though her legs are much shorter than mine, the maid set a pace that was only kept up by the pounding of my heart. Rounding the bend at last, I saw a crowd of dwarves gathered around the base of the scaffolding which criss-crossed the end of the hall.

Picking up the hem of my gown and urging my feet still faster, I began to push wildly through the crowd, who, seeing my hurry, obligingly gave way. Then I saw him, lying on his back, his eyes closed, his face pale, his great mane of hair flung askew upon the stone floor. A trickle of blood traced a frightening path down the side of his temple, from a deep gash there. Oin was bending over him, and looked up at my approach.

I fell to my knees beside Fili, my heart in my throat. Oin shouted for everyone to get back, get back! and I took his still hand in mine. It was warm, but unmoving, and I spoke his name.

"Fili... Fili –" Rising up on my knees, I bent over his face, touching it, and calling him again. "Fili – say something..." He did not move, and I turned to Oin in desperation. "What happened?" I begged, though I could see very clearly... Above us hung the torn ropes and ragged planks of where the scaffolding had broken through, and debris littered the floor around us as well.

"He is alive," Oin offered helpfully. "Move, lass, and let me check his pulse. He has hit his head quite hard."

"Obviously!" I exclaimed, my voice pinched and not my own. "What can I do? What can be done? Is he going to be –" I choked to a stop, rubbing his hand within mine. "Oh, Valar, oh Valar..."

The sounds of the crowd chattering and pressing close about us seemed to roar in my ears, and the heat of the room suddenly came over me like a wave and the next thing I recall was Oin's face near mine, and him saying rather loudly, "Oh, not you too. Can't have something happening to you, lass, as well!"

"As well?" I muttered thickly, wondering why the back of my head ached, and Oin pressed a cool hand to my forehead.

"Aye – passed clean out, you did. Not more than a minute."

"Fili –" I managed, struggling to sit up, and Oin helped me. Fili still lay, quiet, and unmoving, but his brow moved ever so slightly, lowering, then relaxing, then lowering, then relaxing again.

"Silence!" Oin vociferated. "Leave him be! Go back to work!"

Hurrying back a little distance, but certainly not returning to their work, the other dwarves watched him, no doubt, as closely as I did. His hand was in mine, but I did not remember taking it, all I remember seeing was his eyes as they slowly eased open, clouded, and unseeing.

"Fili..." I breathed, pressing his hand to my lips and shedding a few quiet tears upon it. "Oh, Fili..."

"Sigrid," he managed, his lips making the effort sloppy and ill-pronounced. "What – "  
"Shut it, laddie," Oin instructed. "And lie still. They're coming with a stretcher to bear you to your chamber."

"I must have fallen," Fili whispered, and I nodded.

"Aye – they came and told me..."

"You should not have been worried."

"Do as he says..." I choked.

"I don't want you wor -"

"Shut it," I whispered. "Lie still."

A stretcher was brought and Fili let out quite a groan as he was lifted to it and borne from the room. Several dwarrow-maids nearby helped me to stand, my legs feeling as unsteady as a baby's, and my vision swimming around me.

I suppose I made it back to the chamber, where Fili was being laid upon the bed. Oin examined him for some time and tended to the wound upon the side of his head, saying to me, "The prince needs rest. He has struck his head quite hard, but no bones appear to be broken. Still, he will not be himself for some time."

I nodded mutely, and with a bow, Oin left, declaring his intent to return later and see how Fili was doing. As soon as the door shut I was upon the bed, my head pillowed on his chest, sobbing like a child.

"Oh, Valar, oh Valar..." I gasped as he lifted his arm and draped it weakly across me, his fingers scrunching and unscrunching the fabric on the side of my gown. "Oh, I was so worried..."

"Stupid..." Fili muttered, his eyes closed as I looked up through my tears. "I just misstepped..."

"You could have died," I whispered. "Oh, Valar..."

"But I didn't." He smiled at me, a very small one that barely shifted his face. "I didn't."

I continued to cry for some while, and at last gained control of myself, sitting up and regarding him with, no doubt, puffy eyes and disheveled hair. "I am sorry." I wiped my face. "I was so afraid..."

"You should not have been worried," Fili grimaced as I shifted on the bed and jostled him. I put a hand on the side of his face, the good side, and his eyes drifted shut as my fingers ghosted down his beard.

"I can't lose you," I whispered. "Not now, not ever."

There was a long silence, and then his voice came, heavy with the need for sleep. I had been told not to let him sleep, however, or, Oin said, he may not wake again.

"You are well?"

"Fili – " I said, louder than was necessary, taking his shoulder and giving it a small shake. He winced. "You have to stay awake. Oin's orders."

"Who?" he muttered.

"You're not allowed to go to sleep," I said, shaking him a bit more. His eyes opened, and he glowered slightly.

"I am so tired."

I shook my head. "Think about something."

"I can't."

"The baby." I took his hand and held it against me, and a smile once again lit his face, his warmth spreading warmth through me.

"The baby," he echoed, and my throat tightened.

"Aye." It has been moving more and more, and has grown within me so that it can nearly always be seen beneath my gown. It has been four cycles of the moon now, and I have started to feel differently when I walk, but it is an adjustment I've been making. I feel clumsy (I always was) but now even more so. I told Fili these things in as animated a way as I could muster, though I've told him before, and he chuckled quietly.

"How long must this go on?" he asked at last. "How long must you keep me awake."

"Until Oin says it is alright," I told him seriously. "If only Tilda were here. She could talk all night."

Fili laughed outright at this, only to stop with a sharp intake of breath that hissed between his teeth.

"Head," he explained in a tight voice. "Mahal, it hurts. It feels twice it's normal size."

I regarded him sadly, but said, "Well, if it's any comfort, it does not look twice it's normal size."

Oin came in soon after that, and said that he must be kept awake all through the night to be kept out of danger. It was a long night, and Oin offered to relieve me, but I refused to leave him. A s soon as dawn broke, and we were pronounced 'out of the woods', we both fell fast asleep and slumbered all the way until late afternoon.

Fili woke first, surprisingly, and his stirring aroused me.

"What hour is it?" he murmured, and I shook my head.

"I don't know."

Everything has been askew in my mind since then, but it will right itself in time. Thank Mahal and whatever other gods watch over us now that Fili is alright. He is resting now as I write, and will mend in some weeks I think.


	47. Chapter 47

Today was the first day that Fili got up, and together we walked slowly about some of the nearer halls within the mountain. Everyone was eager to greet the prince at last, and comment on how well (or ill) he was looking, and for once I was glad to not have the attention on myself and my growing stomach. Arm in arm, we were leisurely, and I asked regularly if I was tiring him.

"Nay, nay," he replied, shaking his head gingerly. "It is good to move about at last."

He was abed for nearly a week, and does not yet feel well enough to return to anything strenuous (the other morning he vomited most violently just at sitting up, and Oin assured us it was just the after-shocks of the blow to the head. Kili, upon hearing of it, took the liberty to congratulate Fili on his expecting a child as well, which made me blush and want to smack him at the stupidity of it, but Fili just laughed).

Thorin approached us as we reached the Hall of Kings, and the noise of the work there surrounded us.

"Fili," he greeted with a gentle smile. "Are you well?"

"Well enough," Fili nodded. "Though hating this inactivity..."

"I offered to teach him embroidery, but he declined," I put in, and Thorin looked amused. Fili grinned at me. "Sigrid is good company."

"And you – are you well? And the child?" Thorin seemed uncomfortable, but asking in an obligatory way. It is forever a mystery to me why a great strong warrior, or any older, wiser person is reduced to a stuttering idiot when confronted with something as ordinary as a woman bearing a child. But I suppose I should remind myself that such a thing is not so common here. I like to think he really cares, and try not to think on previous things Fili has told me he said.

"Aye, we are," I smiled.

"That is good. Oin speaks of nothing else – his care of you gives him something to attend to at last beyond the coughs and usual ailments of our people."

I nodded. "He certainly takes great joy in what he does."  
"There are not enough sick to go around for him," Thorin grumbled. I could feel Fili waver slightly, his arm within mine, and murmured, "Do you want to go back?"

"I don't  _want_ to," he replied. "But perhaps I should. At least let me sit for a moment."

A chair was brought, and he sank to it, looking a bit pale. Valar, I hate to see him like this. I know it shall pass, but it is a torment meanwhile.

"Should you not sit?" he murmured, his eyes closing, the ringing of mallets and chisels all around us. "I feel rude."

"Nonsense," I told him, briefly caressing his face and casting a shy look at Thorin who turned discreetly away. "Tell me when you feel strong enough to return."

He nodded, and for a moment I stood by his side until he caught my hand and pressed an airy kiss to it. "You don't have to just stand here," he smiled, his eyes still closed. "Let Thorin show you about. See all the progress so you can tell me."

I hesitated, but he urged me to do as he said, so I approached Thorin, twisting my hands within each other.

"Thorin – Fili tells me that I should view the progress with you. He will be eager to hear of it later."

"Aye," Thorin replied, and beckoning, we walked side by side down the great length of the hall. "I thank you for your care of him."

"He is my husband," I murmured, and Thorin looked at me for a long moment, before muttering:

"You suit each other."

He said it as if the fact surprised him. I chose my words carefully, feeling small despite the fact I stand a full head taller than he.

"You... you are not always pleased with your nephews and the... decisions- that they make," I said slowly. "I am glad to know that – that I am acceptable for him after all."

"More than acceptable, lass," Thorin said, regarding me with his cold eyes. "I would not settle for just acceptable for the heir to Durin's throne."

I opened my mouth like a fish and gaped for a moment, groping for words, but Thorin added, "You are a worthy daughter of this house now. I do not often admit when I am wrong – but it seems I must once again." He gave me a smile then, and may I say it is the most remarkable sight. He is quite nice-looking when he smiles, and something in his gaze reminded me of Fili as I would never have imagined before.

'Thank you," I managed, shutting my mouth before I tried to improve that and made an even bigger fool of myself.

Thorin merely inclined his head, and together we continued about the hall. The broken scaffolding is under repair, and just looking up at the dizzying height at which the workers suspend themselves in their harnesses to work is enough to make me feel queer about the stomach. Not to mention being up there, and having a job to do. Other workers have undertaken the skilled work of the carvings along the walls, and I could have spent hours there, listening to the tales of ancient dwarf lords with names I cannot pronounce, let alone spell, and all their great deeds which are being chronicled there.

Soon, I returned to Fili, who looked much more lively, and was watching the goings-ons with an eager face, and a smile.

"Well," he inquired as I approached after bidding goodbye and my thanks to Thorin, who had other matters to attend to, "what do you think?"

"I knew dwarves were skilled at many things, but I never imagined the full extent of it," I said, and Fili seemed to find this funny.

"Splendid. Just splendid," he kept saying to himself. "Shall we go back, then?"

"If you are well enough."

"I am well."  
Rising, steadily, but carefully, Fili took my arm within his once again, and we left the noisy hall. Fili let out a sigh.

"Quiet at last. It was making my ears ring."

"Aye," I agreed. "Such a noise."

There was a long silence, and then Fili began to speak in a low voice.

"Sigrid, last week when we were talking together, you asked me about my father." He paused, and I hurried, "I'm sorry. I should have realized you never brought it up for a reason."

"No, no," he said quickly. "For so long I drove it from my mind, lest I speak of him and upset my uncle. One would think he would realize a lad needs to remember his father, but he was lost in his own grief, and forbade us to speak of him."

We stopped before our door, and he faced me. "I was young. So young he has all but faded from my heart..." Fili looked sadly into my eyes. "That alone is what perpetuates my sorrow now."  
"I'm sure you remember something," I said quietly. "If you like, you could tell me what you recall – it should be good for your memory..."

He simply leaned upwards and kissed me, saying, "He was a good and brave dwarf. And as long as I remember that, I am happy."

We made plans to walk about some more later, but both of us were too tired, and so now Fili is napping by the fire, and I am writing. So much for great plans. But I do think he is growing stronger each day.


End file.
